#but TOGETHER? You could build fucking babel with them

[skyborneveggie]

Ugh me & my friend’s husband have so much in common it’s crazy, we should get along but.

I. Can’t. STAND. Him.

He drives me fucking nuts every time I see him.

#we literally have all the exact same interests #but he exudes this blunt & pretentious air #he makes me want to not even talk about anything i'm interested in because of his neverending stream mildly dickish remarks #it's death by a thousand paper cuts #each comment is only slightly rude & could be brushed off on its own #but TOGETHER? You could build fucking babel with them

[slimeranch7]

Long rant regarding Sumeru's longest questline (golden slumbers -> her foes rage like great waters)

This is a weird place to share my thoughts on a Genshin world quest but it's not like i really use any other platform.

So, Jeht from Genshin impact, Sumeru's longest running world quest line.

Never thought I'd ever say this but hyv's writing has gotten to a point where i am happy to say that i felt true dread (in the best way, as intended by the writers, probably)

Spoilers for "golden slumbers", all the way up to "her foes rage like great waters". And it's a really long wall of text, not intended for anyone to read, but if u need to scream about that questline, feel free to join me. I feel like I'm screaming into the void rn. No one i know cares about the story or is caught up as far as i am

Most people have like an npc that made them cry in Genshin. To a lot of people it's teppei from the inazuma archon quest. For me, it was Jeht.

The golden slumbers quest started really slowly for me but i needed the primos for upcoming banners, so naturally i rushed through it.

I'm really glad to have been playing while eating lunch because i was still able to skim the dialogue and find the traveller building a relationship with Jeht and her father. I didn't cry when her father died, though. It certainly did leave a sinking feeling in my chest with how raw jehts emotions were then but in the end, i took the primos and dipped

After a few updates, hyv added a new part of the desert and i entered the tanit camps and unexpectedly met jeht again, who was slowly trying to settle into a new community. Matriarch babel set off warning bells the first time i met her, sending jeht to hunt traitors of their tribe in cold blood. I was like "what the fuck? That's pretty dark for a game like this, they didn't even shy away from the descriptions".

We do the story line, meet some people of the tribe, make acquaintances, all is well.

Until Jeht was inevitably betrayed by the very man she built up so much trust with since rejoining the tanit. Its not that some guy tryna force marriage onto a women is shocking, it's the fact that it was done in Genshin impact. It was just unexpected, but the best part is, jeht did not shy away from killing that man (someone she saw as a brother at first) in cold blood as soon as his betrayal was revealed. And then later she kills another tribesmember finding out that he also betrayed them

Oh and somewhere in between, we come close to finding that babel has set up jeht for betrayal as well, but the matriarch smartly covers it up. Truthfully, i did not trust her.

Anyway at this point i was like man this girl takes zero shit. The story goes on, you find that eternal oasis, and Jeht gets to leave remnants of her parents there as their final resting place. At this point, i started feeling emotionally connected to Jeht, and it warmed my heart so much that her parents could stay together in a place they dedicated their life to finding

Quest ends there, after reporting back to matriarch babel. Nearly a month later, because i haven't returned to the tanit camps since, i find that Jeht reappears with another quest. I happily talk to her, and she wanted to retrieve benben (the cute little pyramid robot) to fix him up. We do exactly that.

There was this weird interlude where you meet another woman who was basically groomed into being a mindless killing machine by her own father, which began instilling a sense of dread in my stomach, and later you're forced to kill her, to which i then started feeling like REALLY uneasy. And not only that, i also lose liloupar, the jinni jar that had stuck with us for a good while, and this build up of losing people left and right started getting to me.

I didn't think about it at first when i was playing but at this point i was cutting through each part of the quest with impatience and hyper focus. I even resorted to using my best team (floor 12 spiral level of efficiency) because i couldn't stand taking my time to get used newer team comps

We're told to do some investigation and such which eventually leads to clues of jeht's betrayal. Babel then sends US. US, THE FUCKINF TRAVELLER to hunt down jeht and my god i was scared I'd have to kill her like i did with that poor falcon girl. There were just so many deaths flags present

Investigation goes on, i find out that the motherfucking fatui had a hand in this, that jeht was sold out and captured by them. Mind you, i had no issues with the fatui, if anything they were a minor nuisance. But in the moment, i never thought i could muster so much hate towards a ragtag team of stupid, visionless scoundrels.

Even the ones that were begging for mercy and giving us information- i wanted to cut him up so bad regardless of his pleas for innocence. Even the traveller themselves and paimon began getting straight to the point. They took no shit from anyone they crossed paths with. This build up, the death flags, the climbing desperation that traveller and paimon began to exhibit, and even the notes/descriptions that defeated fatui gave us, it built up such a sickening pit of dread in my stomach that the moment i finally found Jeht displayed on my damn scream i actually slumped on my chair and sighed in relief.

I was just so thankful that i didn't have to kill her. But if anything, i was more scared of how much rage she showed after killing tribesmen sent after us. It turns out babel had set us up so that we would be pitted against Jeht (which of course didn't happen) and the climax includes Jeht confronting babel, and giving her no time to talk because she openly admitted to scheming against both traveller and jeht.

In the end, babel fell like all the open world enemies we kill- ended in cold blood. Jeht didn't hesitate, not even in her in-game posture or the dialogue. She told babel she would kill her, and she did exactly that, no hesitation whatsoever.

And i almost cried seeing the empty tanit camps. I thought Jeht would be all alone again, until benben showed up. At this point it was like three in the morning and i was on a voice call with a friend that didn't even play Genshin, and i almost cried to him about jeht.

All in all, hyv's storytelling has clearly improved by an insane amount since inazuma (the chasm and enkanomiya kind of counted i guess, it's stories were actually quite intriguing). I won't say inazuma was a total disaster because i will admit, i enjoyed the overall story, it was just the execution of it that was a let down.

But sumeru's archon quest had me on the edge of my seat. And Sumeru's longest world questline rivalled the sacred sakura's questline as well as ruu's questline (which says a lot because in my experience, ruu and kazari were the most memorable npcs)

I honest to God have never once played a game that captured my heart so earnestly before. I was literally sweating nervously the entire time at the end. I felt the anger and the dread and the worry that hyv most likely intended for the player to feel when we desperately searched for jeht to its fullest.

I wasn't expecting an immature, bratty and outspoken npc like jeht to capture my attention. There were a lot of ups and downs with our relationship as the traveller with her, and against all odds, we still remained close friends. I don't care that she's a bunch of pixels on my laptop. I don't care that this is a questline with a definitive end. I'm just glad that jehts free to roam as she pleases, and that she has benben so she would never have to feel alone.

This was definitely an indication of hyv taking into accounts of the pacing and player input and building something beautiful out of it. And if the rest of Genshin's stories can be written like this, it's safe to say that I'll definitely be hooked until I've exhausted the full game.

[fruitcoops]

Can I please ask for some protective Cubs and/or Coops. I adore these boys and I love the fics where they always have each other’s backs. It could be a similar situation to Remus and that Stan guy or something different. No pressure or anything and if you don’t vibe with this prompt don’t stess bestie

Yes, I love protective Lions! For the anon whose meds got mixed up: I'm so sorry that happened, and I hope this provides the comfort you were looking for in the form of Cub lovin' <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for panic attacks, forgetting to eat a healthy meal

It was Sirius who noticed first. Then Remus. Then Finn.

He was still kicking himself over that one, to be honest.

Sirius moved like a solid wall, murmuring in quiet French as he led Logan out of the gym and into the hall with Remus hot on their heels. A pang hit Finn right in the heart—I want to understand, he thought, fervent and afraid as he set the jump rope down. I would build the Tower of Babel again to understand how to help.

His pulse picked up; sweat itched at his forehead even after he stopped exercising. “Something’s wrong,” Leo said under his breath as they hurried into the hall.

Obviously, Finn bit back. He should have known since the second Logan started snapping his fingers in a nervous tic, should have seen the fucking signs—

“Everything alright?” James asked cautiously from the weight bench where he laid. “Did someone get hurt?”

“Just—just hang on a second.”

“Respire.” Sirius sat crosslegged across from Logan, whose eyes were squeezed shut as he leaned his head against the wall about ten feet from the door. “Logan, respire.”

A gentle but firm hand moved Finn out of the way by his shoulder; Remus slipped past them with a cup of water. “Drink this,” he ordered as he took Logan’s twitching hand between his own. “Open your eyes if you can.”

“Gonna throw up,” Logan managed, his voice high and reedy.

“Lo?” Finn’s mouth was dry. Logan hadn’t had a panic attack since their last year at Harvard together—he barely remembered what to do.

Logan’s chest caved at the sound of his voice, and one pale green eye cracked open to stare at him in sheer terror. “Finn. Finn, it’s happening, I don’t know what to do—”

“Move.” Finn’s throat hurt, but his brain kicked into autopilot. I can fix this. “Leo, get some damp paper towels from the break room. Cap, give him space.”

Leo disappeared from his stunned place by his side; after a moment’s hesitation, Sirius held his hands up and backed away. Logan was still gripping Remus’ hand with white knuckles. “How do I help?” Remus asked as soon as Finn knelt next to Logan.

“Grab some more water, and granola bars.” Slowly and deliberately, he reached up and cupped the side of Logan’s face. He had never allowed himself to do it at Harvard, but Logan always came back to himself quicker with a grounding touch. “Logan, can you look at me for a second?”

He shook his head. “Gonna throw up.”

“Alright.” With a shaky exhale, Logan leaned into his palm. “There you go, good job. Are you still dizzy?”

“Little bit.”

Past adrenaline rush, past collapsing, moving through dizziness. Finn ran through his mental checklist like it was just yesterday that Logan had crumbled after a bad game in from of scouts. “Cap was right, you need to breathe. I’ll do it with you, okay?”

He watched Logan’s chest move up and down, erratic at first before slowing to match Finn’s steady pace. Something damp and cool brushed against his free hand and he pressed the paper towel to Logan’s forehead, then kissed Leo’s cheek in gratitude as he sat down. “What happened, love?”

Logan swallowed hard and licked his lips, but his eyes were opening. “Dunno. I was almost at the end of my reps. I was fine.”

“Did you eat?” Sirius asked quietly to his left, waiting with his arms crossed. Despite his stance, he didn’t look angry.

“Bagel for breakfast. Coffee.”

His mouth tilted down. “That’s not enough.”

“Desole.”

“We’re not upset,” Finn assured him, sliding the makeshift washcloth to his temple. “Just worried.”

“It’s really warm in here,” Logan panted. His pupils had dilated so far they almost masked the green entirely. Past dizziness, into dehydration. “Is anyone else warm?”

Finn’s sweat was already cooling on his body as he handed him the water glass. “Drink.”

In twenty seconds, half of it was gone. A decent amount spilled over the front of Logan’s shirt from his shaking hands, but that didn’t seem to bother him. Leo’s whole face was lined with concern. “Better?”

“Oui.”

Finn glanced up at the others and gave them a quick nod. We’ve got him. Sirius squeezed his shoulder as he passed, and Remus passed him a couple energy bars before heading back into the gym. Logan’s breaths were coming easier; they waited in silence until the rest of the water was gone and his face regained some of its color. “You can’t skip breakfast on heavy workout days, Lo,” Finn said, folding his legs under himself. “You know that’s how these get triggered.”

“It’s been long enough that I thought I’d be alright.”

“Does this happen a lot with you?” Leo asked. Insecurity flickered over his face and Finn felt a stab of guilt.

Thankfully, Logan shook his head. “Not for a while. They used to, back in school.”

“Then why’d you skip breakfast if you knew it might happen?”

“I slept weird. Didn’t wake up hungry, and by the time I was, we had to go.”

“We can take another five or ten minutes to make sure you eat instead of having a panic attack.” Just to make that extremely clear, he added in his mind. “For future reference.”

Logan’s nose twitched as he looked toward the gym door. “Sorry for interrupting your practice.”

“Health comes first,” Leo said firmly. “Practice won’t ever be more important than your safety.”

“It’s our job—”

Finn held his hands up in a timeout motion. “Panic attacks aren’t something we fuck around with, remember? The guys will understand. Coach will understand. Besides, we’re your boyfriends. It’s our job to take care of you when you’re feeling shitty.”

Logan looked between them, sighed, and leaned forward to rest his forehead on both their shoulders. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Leo said into the soft skin of his neck with a light kiss.

Finn rubbed small circles onto the back of his hand and buried his face Logan’s slightly-sweaty curls. “Love you, three. Ready to head back in?”

“Only if you’re ready for me to kick your ass in squats.”

Leo snorted. “Bold of you to assume Cap’s letting you near anything heavy for the next 24 hours.”

“That assumes he lets you in the gym at all,” Finn amended.

Logan rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“And I’m sure he’ll believe you, after you’ve been cleared by every doctor in a four-mile radius.”

“I’ll make him let me in.”

“Now that I’d pay to see,” Finn laughed. He internally cheered at the rosy splotches of temper that lived a semi-permanent life on Logan’s cheeks.

Leo nodded. “A true battle of wills.”

Logan’s jaw ticked at the side. “You’re the worst boyfriends ever.”

“Nah, we’re just protecting you from your big bad older brother who is fully capable of banning you from the gym if you don’t play your cards right.” They heaved him to his feet by his hands; if Finn spent a little extra time dusting his back and thighs off, that was nobody’s business but their own.

“Are you done?” Logan asked with clear amusement written all over his face.

“I’m protecting the booty,” Finn said solemnly. Next to him, Leo fought a valiant battle against the grin trying to take over his face. “It’s a very important booty, you know.”

“Like you’d know, Pancake O’Hara.” With a playful smack to his—admittedly lacking, in comparison—rear end, Logan strolled back down the hall to the gym and pulled the door open.

“Yoga mats,” Sirius said without preamble. Leo clamped a hand over his mouth and hid his face in Finn’s shoulder.

“But—”

“Yoga mats. If you even breathe on the weights, I swear to god I’ll sit on you.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Love you, too.” Sirius narrowed his eyes down the hall. “You two have absolutely no excuse to chill out here. Congrats, Harzy, your rotation for the bench press just started. Knutty, Bliz is waiting for you by the ice baths.”

“Oh, god,” Leo groaned.

Even Sirius looked sympathetic as he moved aside to let Logan in. “It’s only fifteen minutes. You’ll sur—Logan, put that down!”

#logan tremblay #finn ohara #leo knut #sirius black #remus lupin #oknutzy #coops #cubs #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #panic attack

[itsthestutterforme]

Becoming Mine (Vincenzo)

Summary: Y/N is working with Vincenzo and a loyal ally from Italy. Han seok captures her and tortures her for information. She holds out longer than he hoped and wants her loyalty for himself.//SMUT WARNING, MINORS DNI

--

Jang Hanseok sent Ms. Choi to get her hands dirty and oversee the torture of Y/N for information. Y/N and Vincenzo grew up in the Mafia together. They taught each other everything.

He has asked Y/N for help with taking down Babel and she said yes without any questions asked. And now she has to suffer the consequences of loyalty.

First they started with electrocution. They tied her to a metal chair and put spark plugs on the back side of the chair. They would send a jolt, each longer than the last. "Go to hell!" She yells at Ms. Choi after the jolt that lasted 20 seconds.

Then they moved on to cutting with the thinnest daggers. Death by a thousand cuts, she always thought it was a cliche thing to use. But hey, to each their own torture method.

Her hair sticks to her forehead and the sides of her neck as he digs his knife across her collar bone. "Fuck!"

Ms. Choi walks into Hanseok's office with a grimace. "What's wrong?" "She's not breaking. She's a lot stronger than I thought." Ms. Choi says, linking her hands behind her back. Hanseok stands from his chair and rounds the desk.

"What tactics have you used?" He asks. "Electrocution, cutting, waterboarding, fire and even bludgeoning and she still tells me to go to hell." Choi rambles.

"I could use someone of her loyalty," Hanseok states. "I want to meet her," he adds. "With all due respect, sir, she'll never agree to that. She's endure days of torture for Vincenzo, she isn't going to give him up or betray him. She's willing to risk her life for him." "Will you risk your life for me?" He asks, searching her face for a response.

"I'll kill anyone you tell me to, sir," "That didn't answer my question. I still want to see her." He says. Ms. Choi drives him to the warehouse where they keep Y/N. She was currently unconscious from the pain she has endured. Hanseok's face grimaced and he says, "You took get your hands dirty a little too literally."

Y/N gasped as she regain consciousness and she groaned softly. She looked up to see Jang Hanseok and he smiles. "Who the hell are you?" She asked before spitting out some blood in her mouth. "Hopefully, I'll be your new boss." He says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "In your dreams, tough guy." She snarks.

A man punches her across the face and she looked at him with pure annihilation and vexation. That look gave Hanseok butterflies in his stomach. The feeling was beyond the norm and he had no idea what the origin was. She opened her mouth to say something else but Hanseok intercepted.

"Touch her again, and I'll have you thrown off a building." He threatens. Hanseok watched as the man stepped away from her. "You, cut her loose," He adds, pointing to another man.

"Sir, are you sure about this?" Choi asked and he didn't answer. She was cut free and the first thing Y/N grabs is the man's throat before breaking it.

Another man came at her and she ducked under the punch before punching him twice in his armpit before punching his throat. She limps over to the table where her weapons were and grabbed her smaller knives.

She tossed them in the air and within seconds, three men dropped dead with the knives in their skulls. Which only left Ms. Choi and Jang Hanseok.

She grabs a gun from one of the corpses and aimed it at them. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you both," "Do that and my men sets that entire plaza on fire with everyone inside."

"I'm calling your bluff lady, you're just trying to save your ass because you know that I'll put bullet in your head without blinking," she says as she cocks the gun and applies steady pressure on trigger.

"Wa-" she pulls the trigger and sends a bullet straight through Ms. Choi's head. Hanseok chuckles wryly before saying, "Now I'm in need of a new lawyer and strategist," he says, his hands still stuffed in his pockets.

"Who are you?" "The CEO of Babel," he answers nonchalantly. "So you're the one who started all this,"

"Well I can't take all the credit. She had her fair share," he says, referencing to Ms. Choi. Red dots appear on Y/N chest and she notices. "I have this place surrounded. One move to shoot me and you'll get shot to pieces. Just take the easy way and work for me. It'll be a lot of fun." "Right, like killing innocent people is fun,"

"It seems like you enjoy killing people." "Only those who deserve it," she snaps. "Regardless of your intentions, my guys wills drop you before you can fire. Question is, do you want to live and be treated like a queen?"

She doesn't respond and he adds, "Or I can kill both you and your mother. She loves to visit a little shop in.. Siena, right? What's it's called again?"

Her grip tightens on the gun before tossing it across the room. "Kill her and I promise to kill you and every single one of your sponsors," "Looks like you and I have more in common than we thought. Come on, let's get you cleaned up." He walks out of the warehouse and she hesitantly follows.

Y/N's POV

You sigh softly as you stepping into the cold, crisp in contrast of the warm, misty air in bathroom. You had pulled your hair into a loose ponytail before you put on Hanseok's shorts and t-shirt. You hate to say it, but his clothes were extremely comfortable. He promised to take me out shopping tomorrow for clothes.

"I didn't know what you liked so I bought everything," he says, referencing to the various plates of food on the kitchen counter. Your eyes settle on kimchi jiagae and you make your way over to the table.

You a grab a few bowls to try some of the kimchi jiagae, bulgogi, dakdoritgang, dakgangjeong and mixed rice. You set them on the tray sit on the pillow he prepared for you.

"You like spicy food, huh?" He says and you nod. "Yeah, my brother likes spicy food too." You wait until he comes back with his tray of food to dig in. You hum lowly as you eat your bulgogi and you feel a hand touch my chin. You pull away and look at him with confused.

"What the hell are you doing?" "I'm sorry, I just.. you look.. you're beautiful," "If you think that you can someone convince me into sleeping with you, you have another thing coming,"

"What? I can't appreciate your beauty without something in return?" He asks innocently. "Hell no," you sneer. He chuckles before saying, "I'm going to have some fun with you."

Over the next few weeks, he has bought you a whole new wardrobe, shoes and jewelry. He's even made sure my hair and nails are done with complementary spa days.

He's been pampering you ever since you were a part of his life. You've been enjoying it but you've developed a sense of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It also raises questions. Why did he choose you? How long will this pampering thing last? Is your mom still held hostage? What is he planning on doing with Vincenzo?

"Hey, kitten." You roll your eyes at his new pet name for you. You have no idea where he got it from because you are nothing like a kitten. You were playful or adventurous, but you were high maintenance.

"How many times do I have to tell.." you trail off as you see him in a light blue three piece suit with white leather shoes. His hair was combed to the side with gel and you could smell his cologne from where you sat.

"Why are you dressed like that?" "Do you like it?" He say, nearing you slowly. "No," you lie and he smiles at you. "You sure about that?" He leans his hands on either side of you and ducked his head to be at your eye level. "I bought you a matching dress. Get dressed, we leave in an hour."

He nudges his nose against yours before leaving the room and leaving you hot and bothered. Ever since you walked in on him lifting weights without his shirt, your mind came up with various, filthy scenarios that made your panties soaked.

You stand up from the chair and walked into the bedroom to see a goregous silk, light blue dress with diamond seam around the midrange of the stomach.

You take a shower and apply your favorite lotion and perfume before you slide on the dress. You latch on the sparkly, light blue heels. You put on your robe and sit down to apply some foundation, highlight and mascara on to your face.

You were just about to clip your hair up and leave a few curls out but you hear Hanseok say, "Leave your hair down." You look at him through the mirror to see him leaning his arm on the door frame, pulling his dress shirt taught around his solid biceps. He eyes you with a soft smile on his face. "You look beautiful," he says as he nears you once again.

"I know." You stand up and meet him half way across the room. "Shall we?" He says , offering you his arm. "Let's just get this night over with,"

**

You two return at one in the morning and you were infuriated. He spent the whole night flirting with random women at the gala. "You make no sense to me, Jang Hanseok." You say, taking off your earring and tossing them on the dresser.

"What makes you say that?" He asks, sitting on the bed to take off his shoes. "You pamper me with all these gifts, clothes, jewelry to convince me to stay in your life and then you spend the entire night flirting with every one you could lay your eyes on." You snap.

He takes off his vest with a sigh and loosens his tie. "I wanted to see if you cared. Cared about me and my attention." "Well, do you?" He adds. "If I didn't care, do you think I would have said anything?" You snap.

He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you inches away from his face. He tightens his grip and says through gritted teeth, "I've had enough of your attitude, just answer the question."

"I just did." His fingers dig into you neck enough to cause discomfort but not enough to break skin. "Do you care about me?" He asks. "Unfortunately, yes." "Why unfortunately?" "It only makes it harder to-" "

"To betray me?" You push his hand away and say, "What the hell makes you think of something like that? I was going to say it makes it harder to say no but you always think everyone is out to get you. It should be me asking the qu-"

He stops your rant by slamming his lips on yours. One hand rests on the back of your head and the other smooths over the dip of your back.

Your fingers work on unbuttoning his shirt as you walk him onto the bed. He sits on the edge and pulls you into his lap. You pull his shirt off his shoulder and leave kisses up his chest in it's wake.

He moans softly and you could feel his hard on press against your inner thigh. You tug the rest of his shirt off and push his back on the bed. You buck your hips against him and a soft whine leaves his lips.

You quiet him by tenderly biting down on his bottom lip. His lips latched onto yours and presses your core harder against him.

He pulls your hair gently to evade your attention from his lips. He rolls you on you stomach and stands. "Han seok, what are you-" he rips the dress open from the back, making you yell out in surprise.

"Damn it, I liked that dress." "There's plenty more where that came from kitten," he smooths his hands up the back of your legs and squeezes your ass.

You pull off the rest of your mangled dress, leaving you in your white lace set. "And don't you dare rip-" he rips the lace underwear in two and pulls you so your knees are on the edge of the bed. "I'm going to kill you, Han seok."

"I've been wanting to get a taste of you since I set my eyes on you." You let out a squeak when you feel his hot breath agaisnt your core.

You've never been in the position before so you have no idea what the expect. He licks up the stripe with slow, deep licks, each lick lasting longer on your clit. "Oh God," you grip the sheets with a white knuckle grip when he curls his tongue along the upper wall and caresses a g-spot. Your legs started to shake and loud moans leave your lips when he slips in two fingers and curled them hard.

You tried crawling away from him, feeling overwhelmed of the pleasure but he holds you back by your thighs. With a few more licks, you release yourself on his tongue and he hums with satisfaction.

"You taste a lot better than I thought, baby." Your body already started to twitch and you could tell that this was going to be a long night.

You roll onto your back and chills roll down your spine when you see him licking your juices off of his fingers. Pushing yourself backwards, he pulls you closer to him by your ankles. "Han seok, please. It's too much."

"You're doing great, kitten. Just relax and let it wash over you." He says softly, pecking your lips before settling himself between your legs once again.

He spreads your legs wide before he sucks on your clit harder and faster than the first time, sending shock waves through your body. "Fuck! Oh my God!"

Looking down at him, he locks eyes with you and he completely devours your bundle of folds. He alternate between licking side to side and up and down with a curl of his tongue.

Your back arches and stars cloud your vision as you come down from your second high. He pulls away from you with his lower face covered in your juices. "Come here," he lifts your trembling body and dropping it into his lap. He smooths his hands over your ass before unbuckling his dress pants.

He pulls down his boxers and his erection stands up tall, making your whimper. He's going to destroy you. "I'll be gentle," he whispers, lifting your chin to meet his gaze.

You nod your head in agreement and lines himself up at your entrance. Throwing your head back as your walls expand and contract around him. You wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his neck and he bounces you in his lap.

Time slows a few seconds when you meet his gaze. "Oh God," you chant as the knot intensified in your stomach. "I'm close, Han seok."

His lips locked with yours and your boys jolts forward when his thumb rubs hard circles on your clit. Your entire body spasms as he cums inside of you but he continued to rub circles until you came.

He stayed buried inside of you while you sat in his lap as you both catches your breaths. Resting his forehead against yours, he says, "I love you. You believe me what I say that, right?"

You nod and holds the sides of your face. "Say it," "I love you," "Good girl," he pulls out of you and slides you both under the covers.

You lay directly ontop of him with a thin sheet covering the both of you, sighing as he draws circles on your back.

#kdrama fanfic #vincenzo #kdramas #smut

[obscureoperations]

yeah.....!lol was thinking of patrick fucking martin....

Hold on.. hol on... Hold on! Nah! You cant be doing shit like this. 🤔😂I mean I had no idea how I could make this work. I decided to be an ass and ignore other asks just to see if I could get this going. I did, But it’s shit imo. I tried. and now here we go!😬

Patrick was so livid, he was on the verge of tears by time nine thirty rolled around. They had been waiting for their appetizers for almost an hour. He was at least relieved for the liberal amount of drinks. He had finally swung a reservation to Dorsia, the hottest restaurant around--it only took him a little over two months. The second he entered the place he was slightly underwhelmed. It was nice… but he already preferred the atmosphere of Del Posto.The lighting was dim, a large chandelier hung in the main hall, the music was faint and ambient. It was a reservation for six. Himself, Evelyn, Bryce and his date. Luis Caruthers and Courtney Rawlinson. He swirled the last of his j&b around in his glass before he downs it with a visible wince.

“God Patrick… maybe we should just leave. I’m sure they’ll give you a refund.” Evelyn huffs

“No.. we’re staying. I didn’t stay on that fucking waiting list for two months for us just to up and  leave.”

Bryce began to laugh as he downed the rest of his martini, he was already beginning to go off on one. Patrick almost wanted to pull him aside and demand that he get his shit together. He’ll be damned if he gets them all kicked out. Instead he whistles through his teeth getting the man’s attention. He tapped his left nostril twice, gesturing over to the bathroom. Bryce seemed to immediately sober up.

“Excuse me… I’m going to go find that waiter.” Patrick  said as he rises from the table.

“I’m… gonna go head to the bathroom…” adds Bryce.

Evelyn rolls her eyes. “Just say the two of you are gonna go do a line. The way you’re acting, it’s like you want to run off together.” She quickly fishes a cigarette from her purse, before turning her attention to Courtney. Patrick briefly runs his fingers through his hair, straightening his tie as he turns to leave. He brushes his hand over his inner jacket pocket to feel the large serrated knife firmly in place. By the time that they left, he would have to find their waiter..Matthew? He couldn’t remember the kid’s name. All he knew was that he had embarrassed him in front of his friends. He would take care of him quickly enough in the alley.

The two men practically power walked their way over to the bathroom, nearly running into someone as they turned the corner. It was that kid.. The waiter, who clutched a menu to his chest--apologizing profusely with wide brown eyes. 

“You…” Patrick sneered.

“I-I’m sorry for the delay sir.. The kitchen is extremely backed up.. W-were short staffed. Feel free to order all the drinks that you need, they’re on the house.” 

“Oh, you can bet that we will…” Patrick growls, stepping in closer. Each syllable is punctuated by a sharp jab to the young man’s chest. 

The boy shrunk away at the blatant abuse, as color rose to his face. He continued to stammer his apologies as he kept his eyes averted and the menu nearly slipped from his grasp. 

Bryce finally pulls Patrick away and into the bathroom, laughing to himself under his breath. “Fuckin kid… he’s practically begging for it.”

“What?” Patrick asks as he absentmindedly eyes his reflection in the mirror-- adjusting his tie and tilting his head. His fingers prod at his jawline. No carbs tonight…

He can hear Bryce snort obnoxiously behind the stall “Ah. god… That’s the shit right there…”

Patrick couldn’t help but roll his eyes. If anything he craved a cigar himself. He began to riffle through his pockets. 

Bryce emerges from the stall looking refreshed although a bit ‘squirrely’. He runs his hands through his already slick hair, adjusting his collar in the mirror. “Alright man… wooh! Lets go…”

“What were you saying about that kid a few minutes ago?” Patrick asks absentmindedly.

“Huh?”

He begins to do a half hearted jig in the mirror, pointing at himself obnoxiously. Yeah that’s right… He was already planning on bagging his date. 

Patrick grits his teeth, as he presses his hand against the knife. This is Bryce...jesus Patrick..calm down.

“You said something about that kid.. The waiter.”

“Oh yeah, he was definitely checking you out. You shoulda saw the way he was leering at you when he replaced your drink.” He shudders dramatically “It was weird man…”

Patrick could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, a fine sheen of sweat forms across his brow. He knew he wasn’t imagining the way the young man looked at him as he continued to apologize profusely. He was frightened, that much he could tell. Patrick always tried his best to portray an intimidating image. The fear, for both his physical well being and the security of his job. But still, there was something else. The boy’s eyes darkened just a bit. Martin! His name was Martin. 

“Whatever…” Patrick mumbles as he washes his hands at the sink,the plan already formulating in his head. He had fully intended on getting the kid fired, if not just outright gutting him in the back alley. But now a different sort of idea formed in his brain, one that might be even more rewarding.

It was less than five minutes after the two of them had resumed their seats that Martin returned with another waiter. Martin held the appetizers, the man behind him held the main dishes, the two of them swiftly began to arrange the plates on the table. Not a single mix up, each of the appetizers matched the dish and the owner. As the two waiters began to leave, Martin shot Patrick a final apologetic glance.

~~

He was cagey, he barely  even touched his steak, he only picked around at the kale and arugula salad. His mind was racing, they were all supposed to visit a club nest, how would he be able to politely excuse himself? He still couldn’t decide if he wanted to wait for him in the alley and take his frustrations out the easy way. The large serrated knife felt like a lead weight in his pocket. He bet he was even more beautiful when he was bleeding. 

“So Bateman, you’re gonna tell me, you spent all your money on this shit--and you’re not even going to eat anything?!” Bryce laughed already reaching for his plate.

Patrick grips his wrist like a vice. “Touch any of it, and you’ll draw back a stump.”

Bryce yanks his hand away, quickly loosening his tie. “Hey calm down there buddy… what no Shiatzu this morning?”

“Evelyn… ask for a doggy bag or something… I’ll be right back.”

“Patrick!” Luis calls.

“Excuse me…” 

~~

Patrick managed to slip into the employee area with an ease that he didn’t expect. He grabbed an apron off a rack and tied it around himself accordingly. He even slipped on a spare face mask. In his suit and tie, he could easily be mistaken for a health inspector. He scans the hallways which for the most part appear completely empty. A door swings open and his back presses against the wall. Two large burly men carry a large slab of meat--probably a cow back to a set of double doors. He was about to step forward again, when the doors burst open. Two women wrangle a cage full of live chickens between them, following the men into the back room.

So. this was Dorsia

Patrick was just about to turn back and meet up with his friends at Levels. He should probably just let it go. Evelyn probably had a few too many and decided to take an uber home. He could schmooze with Bryce for about an hour. Get Luis too shitfaced to drive home. Then it would be just him and Courtney. That was his plan after all.

 Any plans or rational thought seemed to slip from his brain the second Martin crashed in through the doors. Large silver plate in hand, it rests right up on his shoulders, he nearly drops it before placing it on the ground. He surveys  The strange man’s appearance. He looks so familiar, his heart starts to race

“A- are you with the health department?” He asks. The hairs already begin to stand at the back of his neck.

“No...silly” Patrick begins to laugh as he simultaneously removes his face mask and draws the blade from his pocket. The large brandished knife seems to glint in the light. For a moment, Martin catches a glimpse of his own reflection. He instantly bolts down the hall, Patrick cusses beneath his breath as he tosses the mask to the ground.

~

 He was quicker than he expected. Patrick was actually winded, he felt like he was nearing the end of his Monday morning aerobics class. The young man seemed to know all the ins and outs of the building,all the hidden doors and staircases. He had no idea how the two of them ended up on the roof on this exceptionally windy night.  

Patrick could feel the smile play across his lips in an almost foreign upturned line. He had to pause for a moment to get himself together in the bathroom. He had just a brief snort just to keep himself up to par. He imagined he looked like a complete psychopath. Cheshire cat grin, sweating profusely all the while he continues to brandish the knife. Martin was crouched down behind the chimney, his cheek resting lightly against the brick. He looked fully resigned, simply watching Patrick as he continued to laugh and babel to himself.

“Wha--What am I doing?!” His head points towards the night sky as the knife falls from his hand. It lands onto the cement with a resounding clatter. Martin eagerly scrambles for it, before tossing it to the far side of the roof.

Patrick turns his back for a moment, quickly snorting another line from his index finger.. At this point, he had no idea how he could get past this. He had actually  chased the young boy onto the roof. He had three options, he could shove him off. He could fuck him (as he previously intended) Or he could finally hurl himself off the roof. All three options began to seem increasingly appealing. Then Martin began to speak.

“You’re going to kill me aren’t you?”

Patrick eyes him almost quizzically. He looks like a frightened cat hiding behind a tree. 

“I-- I- don’t know.”

He was being honest for once, at this point he had no idea what he wanted to do to Martin.

He can hear Martin’s nails scrape against the brick as he stands.He didn’t recall his face looking so pale, almost ghastly. His cheekbones were gaunt and pronounced.“ Well then kill me now or just let me jump…” 

His eyes widen for a moment. 

“Just let me jump…”

~

His entire body was on fire he could do nothing but aimleslessy grasp at the boy’s hair. His knife was lost somewhere in the corner, his dick was buried between two immaculate cheeks. At times a breeze would shift in, reminding him that he was completely nude on the rooftop of Dorsia. His friends were most likely already over at Level’s he didn’t mind. All that mattered were the sounds spewing from the young man beneath him. It was supposed to be torture, the harder he would yank his hair, more lewd noises spilled from his lips. 

Patrick could clearly see the city below him, it would be so easily to simply toss the boy off the edge of the building. The rewarding sound of him spattering across the pavement would be too dull given the height. Various apartment lights flickered on and off like fireflies in the otherwise crisp black sky. He shifts his focus to the sight of his dick plunging into the well worked hole of his former waiter. Glistening in the light, he still couldn't get over how freely the boy offered himself over. Luis would be jealous, this was exactly what he wanted. But Patrick never desired Luis, he desired him.

A strange, sort of  guttural noise alerts him once again to Martin’s existence. He layed limply against the brick, it was obvious that he had just came. His hand reaches beneath them, harshly groping at Martin’s quickly softening and over sensitive member. He ignores the boy’s pleads for him to stop, instead pistoning his hips in full. It wasn’t long before he bottoms out completely, beads of sweat drip against Martin’s back. A strong gust of air once again reminds him that he is completely bare.

He begins to dress as the waiter still lies limply against the brick. Gaping, he can see pearly white seed leaking out of him. For a moment it reminds him of Courtney, so pretty, almost perfect looking.  He reaches into his pocket, drawing out a card. 

He tosses it onto the young man’s back as he turns toward the fire escape.  “Call me if you want. I might answer. Maybe not. I’m at work all the time”

#martin 1977 #martin 1978 #martin/patrick #martin/patrick bateman #I tried yall #I doubt it even makes sense.

[trashforeverythingdotcom]

Wanderlust

A/n: I’ve been dead for a bit, but hey! How are y’all? In honour of Castlevania season three being released, I’m gonna finish posting these last two chapters (of season 2 Castlevania) up.

Word count: 2732

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

“Oh! This is… Trevor!” Sypha called from above him.

“What?” “I have something!”

“When I say ‘what’, that doesn’t mean I would like to ask even more questions.” Aurora rolled her eyes at his response from where she stood: two floors above Sypha.

“Would you please…? Oh, you are the most annoying– just stop.”

“I’m coming up.” He sighed, closing a box he’d had in his hands and made his way up the stairs to get to the especially giddy redhead.

“I think I’ve found a locking spell. Wait, listen. Your family has an entire literature here about the castle. They tried for centuries to eliminate its main advantage. It transports itself through magical means.”

“Right. So, you can’t just attack it if it jumps somewhere else.” Trevor added as he climbed up the stairs.

“Yes. So, some clever Belmont eventually formulated most of a locking spell. A method to catch the castle and lock it down to a single location so that it can be invaded.”

“Most of it,” Alucard repeated from the floor above them.

“I can finish the final clauses of it myself. It’s all bound on Adamical structures.”

“You keep saying that word,” he sighed before climbing down a ladder to join the two humans.

“Adamic is the original human language, the one spoken by Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. The one that was split into all other languages at the Tower of Babel by God to prevent human cooperation.”

“Is that how you understand that story?”

“Oh, yes. The speakers are the enemy of God. We live in cooperation and hide our stories inside ourselves so he cannot strike them down in jealousy.”

The hold started to rattle. Sypha was startled, but that didn’t stop her from making a crack at the current situation, “See? God hates me!”

“That’s probably not God.”

The hold continued to rumble and shake. “Can we get that magic mirror working?”

“I think so, but I can’t do two things at once here.” Sypha groaned, watching as Alucard carried the giant magic mirror they were referring to.

“I know some Chaldaic,” he set the mirror down gently, turning to face the two humans as he spoke. “I know how to operate a distance mirror. Which shall I do?” He looked at Sypha who immediately shifted her gaze toward the vampire hunter next to her. 

“I can’t do either of those things.”

“Come on, Belmont. Time to choose,” Alucard smirked as he stalked over to the only other male in the place. “You’re either the last son of a warrior dynasty or a lucky drunk,” he became stern. “Which is it?”

The library continued to shake violently, cracking the cement and causing said cement to fall from the ceiling in the form of dust and pieces of rock. Aurora ran her hands rapidly over her head, dusting off the bits of ceiling that fell on her head. 

“Okay. Get the mirror working, Alucard. Give me force numbers, species, and weapons count. Sypha stays on her job for now. Rory and I will fortify the point of entry.” Aurora was hoping she misunderstood what she heard the man say. Adrian was able to sense her discomfort and chuckled to himself at her reaction before getting back to what he was doing; carving extra markings onto the frame of the mirror with his retractable nail. “I’m sorry, did you just say I’m going to be fighting?” “How do you know about that?” “I’m not deaf, ya know. Now answer the question.” “Yes, I did. Now stop complaining and get off your lazy fat ass before we all die.” “Oh, you did not just call me fat, you fat piece o–” “If I let you borrow my sword, will you do what Trevor says?” Adrian interjected.

Aurora shrugged and placed her gaze on the ceiling, a breath ran from her mouth before she gave her answer; a devious, “maybe" was all she cared to say.

The dhampir sighed and unsheathed his sword. “Here.”

“Thanks, but I’m like, three floors above you.”

Alucard glared at her, “do you have to be a pain at this moment in time?”

“If this is any indicator of anything: we don’t have much time left, we might as well get weird with it.” Aurora flew down to snatch the sword from his hand.

“Thanks, baby.” She kissed Alucard on the cheek and immediately floated over to Trevor before she could see the small blush form on the young man’s cheeks. Adrian cleared his throat, quickly settling back into his more serious attitude. “I think we’re going to see the size and disposition of the attacking force fairly quickly with our own eyes.” “I’m forced to agree. Do you have a further suggestion?” Trevor sighed and sheathed his sword.

“Are you asking for my advice?”

“We’re working together, Alucard.” He moved in the man’s direction. “You’re still a bastard, but you’re the bastard I chose to fight alongside back in Gresit. Do you have a problem with any of that?” For once, the dhampir was actually friendly toward the sole surviving Belmont. “None at all,” he said with a smile.

“So, what do you suggest?”

“Using this to find Dracula’s castle. Now. We’re trapped in a box down here,” the place continued to shake as more pieces of the structure tumbled down from above. “We will eventually be overwhelmed.” Books fell from their respective bookshelves. “Unless we change the nature of the battle.” “Agreed. Sypha,” the brunet called. “I’m close to getting it!” Sypha informed him. “I’ll protect you for as long as I can.” “I know.” Trevor used his whip to get to the top rather quickly whilst Aurora levitated. The quaking got so terrible that bigger pieces of the ceiling were beginning to fall, along with Trevor, who used his whip to stop his fall. He hung the same way a monkey would hang on a vine. Aurora successfully dodged one of the big chunks of cement that almost smacked her right on her face when she looked up. Everyone looked up to check the progress for the destruction of the hold; as it would happen to anyone, they felt more motivated to finish their tasks quickly. Aurora waited for Trevor to reach the top of the library and watched as he made moronic attempts at blocking the doorway. “It opens outward, genius.” The brunet’s eyebrows furrowed as he opened the door and proved that it did, indeed, open outward. “Er… Shit.” He muttered, running out through said door, the female dhampir followed suit with her borrowed sword in hand. They climbed up the stairs to find an even more unpleasant sight before them. The night creatures had managed to kick the magic door to the cellar. 

Smoke was everywhere, chunks of debris flew around as the night creatures poured in one by one, eager to heighten their kill counts. The first one to appear to them was fairly big and muscular with horns coming out of either side of its head. “Holy mother of God, I forgot how hideous those things were,” said the dhampir, who felt so revolted by the looks and smells of those things that she momentarily forgot she had to kill them.

“Oh no, don’t worry about me, I’m just getting attacked by a giant,” he took shallow breaths as he climbed onto the beast. Fucking monster that wants to skin me alive and eat me for breakfast.“ 

"You seem like you’re doing fine,” the girl remarked as she continued to watch the hunter attempt to kill the thing.

Trevor’s face scrunched up, “thanks, but I’d greatly appreciate your help considering that’s kind of what you’re supposed to be doing. You are a vampire, you know–" 

"Oh shit!" 

Her eyes shifted in the direction in which her friend was tossed. Trevor groaned and just as the devil was about to bludgeon him to death, Rory sliced the back of its knee. It leaned back and roared, giving the male enough time to slide out of its line of impact, take back his sword and make another incision in the back of its ankle. Blood gushed onto the floor as the demon collapsed. "Damn, the carpet’s ruined.” The older man chuckled at the girl’s comment, taking a momentary break before he’d have to inevitably fight again.

Which wasn’t long. “Trev, behind you!” the brunette pointed and shouted before teleporting to the place she’d gestured to; killing the next creature to step into their line of sight. 

The vampire hunter grunted in approval before getting back into a battle ready stance. “I’ll take the blind one, you can take care of the weird flying ones.”

Aurora obeyed his orders, jumping up to meet the three flying devils halfway as they embarked on their journey down the stairs. She went straight for the Firedrake, wanting nothing more than to get rid of that one first in hopes of avoiding any more unnecessary fires. However, fighting the damned creature made it want to do exactly that, shoot fire at them. She started to panic once she saw light coming out of its abdomen as it swelled up. “Firedrake, just what I need in an underground hold full of paper." 

 "Trevor, what do I do?” In her panicked state, she was unable to think for herself.

“How about pushing it out of here using a bit of your super strength?”

Rory would’ve slapped herself silly, had this been a more appropriate time to. However, it wasn’t, and without missing a beat, she pushed the enormous bird away. Unfortunately, it was still inside when it opened its beak and let loose the terrible fireball; fortunately for all of them, it was far enough not to cause more serious damage to the building. 

The force of the explosion sent Trevor flying backwards through the closed door, landing on his bottom and Aurora downwards, landing flat on her back. “You take that bird thing, I’ll take the dog.” Trevor grunted when he stood back up. 

Everything was nice and calm in Braila, until lightning cracked in the center of the city and a gigantic castle, Dracula’s castle, randomly popped onto the street. Within minutes, the castle was surrounded by, what was presumably, Camilla’s army, awaiting her next command. Marisol watched anxiously from her window as the undead priest tested the water and combusted into blue flames to prove his work was done correctly. She sucked in a harsh breath at the sight of her lover and quickly turned away from the glass. She knew letting him spend time with that vile woman was a mistake; the uncomfortable feeling in her gut had told her so long before this moment came. And yet, she still found herself with feelings of surprise and denial. She didn’t want to believe what she was seeing. Carmilla, a walking, talking cockroach, had managed to steal the man she loved and use him for his skills to move forward with her plan to dethrone another man she cared for deeply and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Marisol’s vision blurred as blood poured out of her eyes. She was going to cry. She was going to let herself feel this and let some of her hurt out before she would compose herself and step out of her room once again to meet all the generals, and Dracula himself, in the throne room. She hoped to God there’d be a chance for her to save them both.

Carmilla’s army charged at the castle, spear first, while Carmilla walked slowly behind them from a distance; grabbing Hector roughly by the arm as she passed him. “Move.” She commanded.

“What?”

“You’re coming with me.”

Hector yanked his arm back harshly. His eyebrows furrowed as he asked her why she thought he would, looking up at the taller woman.

“You’ve made your choice, Hector. You can’t go back to the castle now. You’ve betrayed the old man.”

“I–” he stopped himself, turning his head away from the vampire. He didn’t have much to say to counter that. 

“My god,” she scoffed. “You’re still the baby who had his woodland animal corpses taken away, so desperately clinging onto anyone that shows you some sort of affection or appreciation.” She turned away from him, “Isaac is still the indigent boy getting beaten in the streets.” She turned back and walked toward him as she spoke, “and Dracula is destroying the world in a tantrum because someone killed his pet breeder. You’re all nothing but man-children.” She pointed to her left, the direction opposite to the castle, as she looked down at the lowly human. “And you have nothing left but me.”

“You’re wrong. I have Marisol.”

Carmilla guffawed, “do you think so? You’ve just betrayed Dracula.” She repeated venomously, “her adoptive daddy: Dracula. Do you honestly believe that she, of all people, will forgive you and take you back?

"Pfft, she’s going to hate you for the rest of her life. But don’t you worry, it won’t be long, anyway." 

Hector growled, "you promised to keep her safe. You promised me that she would live." 

The tall woman laughed in his face, "I said no such thing. I said that following Dracula was a death sentence for us all, but I never said I’d go out of my way to help your half-breed nuisance of a girlfriend. You should have seen this coming, but you didn’t because you’re not as intelligent as you may think. You’ve picked your shoes, now walk.” Carmilla pushed the man. He stumbled at first then regained his footing and started walking in the direction he was pushed in. 

Thump, thump, thump. 

Those who were inside the castle anxiously waited for Carmilla’s forces to enter. Soon enough, they, the members of her army, did manage to bust the door open and charge right in. 

It was a bloodbath like no other. The two groups of vampires were, quite literally, ripping each other’s heads off. Marisol did some head ripping herself, trying her best to fight off any and every opponent that walked through the threshold. Which, in retrospect, wasn’t the best idea, having almost been killed by the holy water that came rushing into the place, thanks to the fact that the castle had been jumping around the city. 

Marisol retreated and, upon seeing Dracula on the next floor up, quickly climbed the stairs to meet with the group. “Where’s Hector?” The vampire prince asked. 

The girl swallowed the giant lump in her throat before she could bring herself to say the words, “he’s with Carmilla.”

Dracula nodded, he didn’t seem to be phased by her answer. He’d foreseen it. Out of everyone he placed his faith in, he knew Hector’s loyalty would be compromised. Hector had too much to risk. For one, the girl that stood before him right at this moment. 

“What do you want us to do?" 

"I want you to go upstairs." 

"What? No. I’m gonna stay and fight. With you.”

“No, you won’t. You need to think about the–”

She didn’t want to hear him say it. She didn’t want him to make it real. And she didn’t want him to make that secret she’d been keeping from everyone known, so she agreed. “Fine. I’ll go. But should you need me, you know where I’ll be.”

Dracula smiled softly, “I won’t." 

She quickly made her way back up to her room, and quietly closed the door. She felt nauseous and rushed to find the bucket she had set aside for this exact reason; the bucket she puked in multiple times a day for the past few months.

Sol, her pet bear, and Cezar, Hector’s dog, were pacing about the room when Marisol entered it. Both of the animals were feeling worried and unsafe, having sensed the tense atmosphere from around the entire castle. As she threw up, Cezar and Sol cuddled up to her in an attempt to comfort their owner whilst seeking comfort themselves in their moment of uncertainty.

Her door flew open and she dropped the bucket of sick onto the floor. On the other side of the doorway was someone who wore the same face she did, but slightly chubbier. Her little sister. "Hello, sis,” she greeted, snickering at the woman’s jumpiness and apparent illness. “Not looking too good.”

#Castlevania #alucard castlevania #alucard x oc #hector castlevania #dracula castlevania #adrian fahrenheit tepes #hector x oc #castlevania hector #castlevania alucard #sypha belnades #trevor belmont #carmilla

[minipliny]

The first 5 paragraphs of the nantucket fic

Thank you anon for wanting this! I was taken aback by my own audacity in reblogging the meme and did not respond to these kind enquiries.

You may make enquiries of the great architects Thornton, Bulfinch, and Latrobe…

The architects of the Capitol building! A lot of architects were involved ~according to Wikipedia~ I just picked the most mellifluously named ones of Ishmael’s era. This is meant to be foreshadowing for the lengthy rant about Congress’s decision not to de-silt Nantucket harbour, I liked the idea of introducing politics exclusively for a single issue lobby on the ultimately futile quest to stop Nantucket from becoming one huge sandbar.

copper plum-pudding mold

Growing up, my family attended the local Anglican church, until the vicar delivered the worst sermon of his career in an ill-thought-out attempt to promote diversity.

“None of us are the same! Some of us are sweet and plump, like raisins – some of us are pale and dusty, like flour. Some of us can melt like butter, and others of us bind communities together like eggs. But we are all in God’s mixing bowl, because God needs that diversity, that mixture, to beat us all up together into a wonderful cake that He’s making for himself.”

This could also serve as a neat precis for Moby Dick: bringing a ragtag group of people tightly together so that God can eat them all.

slime for mortar.

The Tower of Babel is too on the nose as a metaphor here, but I just wanted to use that great KJV turn of phrase.

so whirlingly and widely dispersed

The Pequod crew are interesting because apart from a few named individuals not the officers and harpooners (Archie, the blacksmith, the carpenter, the cabin’s boy), they’re in the narrative as like ‘Sicilian sailor” and have dialogue about turning into a pagoda. How WOULD Ishmael think about them if he was not constructing an elaborate literary narrative in which they and he are but colourful background characters due to everyone else being dead? I also didn’t really cover the extent of everyone’s financial problems after an unsuccessful whaling voyage, but believe me, everyone is in terrible debt to land sharks in this story.

A few choice oaths to season the occasion

I sort of feel on a Watsonian level that almost everyone in Moby Dick is saying ‘fuck’ more often than we see on page.

very anonymity of farewell

It’s a fun paradox that intimacy between people can arise and get heightened precisely because there is no long-lasting relationship between them! And self contradictory statements and boat emotions are really what we are about here. 

[lurafita]

Captain Hydra/Spiderman

This was inspired by @anime-lover1717

I tried to post this in answer to the ask, but it wouldn’t let me set tags like that.

Here is the link to the original ask: I loved this ask

I must admit, I had to read up on the universe with Captain Hydra Steve, as I have always been very partial to Peter Parker’s Spiderman and hardly looked at any comics that didn’t feature him, which is why I knew basically nothing about this particular story line. So, as I tried to familiarize myself with the matter at hand, I came to the following conclusion: ‘This is one convoluted mess.’ Now, this might have been better understandable had I actually read the comic issues, and not just a summary of them. But fact is, the comic canon circumstances under which Steve becomes an agent of Hydra, as well as everything around that, including characters and alliances, was too complicated for me to work with in a story.

Which is why I played around with some facts, ignored some story lines, made up some other things, and pretty much fucked up everything.

So the Hydra in Captain Hydra’s universe is still unarguably the bad guys, but they are not the torture happy sadist Nazi evil dudes and dudettes they are usually portrayed as.

Also, while many instances here hint at things that have happened in the MCU, and while everyone is completely free to envision Peter however they like, this here does not strictly follow the MCU canon.

The universe in which Captain Hydra finds Peter, is referred to as Earth 108. This is not hinting at any existing universe in the Marvel comics, or the Cinematic Universe. It’s simply a play on Peter’s birthday (August 10th), because I’m lazy and unimaginative.

I Don’t Have A Title For This!

Good and evil, Steve knew, were more often than not, a matter of perspective.

If a man killed another man, he was a murderer.

If a man saved another man’s life, he was a hero.

If the man from both those examples happened to be one and the same, was he good, or was he evil?

Individuals and societies as a whole, have different parameters for being good and bad and that may or may not be applicable for others.

There was a quote that goes something like this, we judge others by their actions, and ourselves by our intention.

Most people's perception of morality, was subject to culture and societal norms. What was completely legal in one country, could get you a prison sentence in another.

If someone's actions didn't align with anothers' beliefs, it was just far easier to call them 'evil', 'bad', and label them a 'villain', than to try to understand their reasoning, or admit fault in one’s own logic and morals.

Another factor was time. Humans and the societies they lived in evolved over time, and so did their view on morals and ethics. What was once seen as right and just, was subject to harsh judgement two centuries later. Something that right now is seen as morally correct, might be found cruel or disrespectful in the far future.

In the end, the whole debate was probably more deep and philosophical than Steve had the will or patience to deal with.

What truly mattered, was that Hydra's plans for the world, and therefore, humanity, were something he not only believed in, but supported wholeheartedly.

In his opinion, a large part of the struggles that humanity faced, was due to the moral ambiguity and different social standings, different ethics and belief systems, that the various cultures and societies produced.

Countries forcing their citizens to endure wars for economic or territorial gain. Religious diversity causing hatred between two or more groups. Racism and nationalism abound.

There was no structure, no unity, no order.

It was the classic tale of the tower to babel. According to the story, a united humanity in the generations following the Great Flood, speaking a single language and migrating westward, comes to the land of Shinar. There they agree to build a city and a tower tall enough to reach heaven. God, observing their city and tower, confounds their speech so that they can no longer understand each other, and scatters them around the world.

Whether one was religious or not, the story taught a valuable lesson. Together, united, striving toward the same goals, adhering to the same rules, following the same leader, mankind could achieve great things.

And that was all that Hydra wanted. To unite humanity under their banner.

Countries couldn't wage wars upon each other, if Hydra held all of the worlds weapons.

The chasm between the rich and the poor could be reduced, if Hydra had control over the world market.

People who developed powers and abilities that separated them from normal humans could be trained, studied, helped.

Was it cruel to have taken young Wanda and Pietro from their parents those many years ago? Perhaps.

But the children had had poor control over their powers, and their parents had refused to take the help that Hydra had offered them. Now it was 20 years later, and Wanda and Pietro had not only fully mastered their powers, but they had also made many good friends and parental figures within the organization. The training was sometimes hard, yes. But it was never designed to torture. The scientists that studied people like Steve and the twins (and others like them), weren't sadists.

Mutants and mutates weren't subjected to body modifications (unless they themselves requested such, or they were a medical requirement.)

His best friend Bucky had survived the cruelties of war thanks to Hydra's experiments with the super serum. He had the use of both of his arms, thanks to the Hydra scientists who had built him a new one. Wanda could sleep without accidentally slipping into the mind of another, because the many tests she had had to undergo, had helped her understand and control her powers. Studying the way Pietro's body withstood the centrifugal forces when he sped up, brought the potential of many advancements in both the technological, as well as the medical fields. The rate at which Steve's body healed from injury, would one day pave the way for Hydra to cure illnesses such as diabetes, cancer, and possibly even AIDS.

And those were just some of the examples in which Hydra would change the world for the better.

However, change like this came with a price.

Howard Stark, who had refused to manufacture weapons for Hydra, had been one of those. His wife, unfortunately, collateral damage. As had been Wanda and Pietro's parents.

The so called 'heroes' that stood in Hydra’s way, needed either to be brought over to their side, or eliminated. Governments that couldn't be infiltrated, needed to be felled.

You had to break some eggs to make an omelet.

It wouldn't matter in the long run, because the end would justify the means.

While Hydra wasn't scared to use force to do what was necessary (and they already had, on multiple occasions), it would still be preferable to win the masses over. Make them realize that Hydra was not as villainous or evil as most viewed them. After all, if they only won through the subjugation of the whole world, they stood the risk of revolution.

Which was the reason that Steve had been sent out through the portal their scientists had created, with the help of alien tech, to search for allies for their cause in other dimensions.

He had already been successful a few times. One dimension had yielded a version of Anthony Edward Stark, that was just as brilliant, but far less morally uptight, as the one in Steve’s own universe. Another had reunited him with a different Natasha Romanoff. The redhead in his own world had, sadly, sided against him, and was raising a movement against their organization. Yet another trip through the portal had secured the services of one Wade Wilson, or as he liked to be called, Deadpool. An ex-US Military soldier turned immortal mercenary, who had become disillusioned to his states moral high grounds. He was an insane pain in the ass, but damn useful.

Still, non of the new recruits filled the criteria he was looking for. So the search continued. Until he stepped foot into the latest universe, coined by the researchers, Earth 108.

The first thing that surprised him about this universe, was their very own Hydra group. Steve had looked into them right away, hoping to have found possibilities for cooperation between their universes. But it became quickly apparent to him that, while on the surface this Hydra's goals and ideals might seem similar to Steve's worlds Hydra, there were some glaring differences in execution that couldn't be overlooked or tolerated.

Turning his attention away from the poor imitation of Steve's Hydra, he looked instead into 108′s heroes. What he found both disappointed and amazed him .

The disappointment rang loudest when he found this worlds James Barnes. Teamed up with Sam Wilson, formerly known as the Falcon, but having taken on the mantle of Captain America in this world, Bucky was- no. He refused to call this man Bucky. This version of James was a shadow of the man he called his best friend.

Sam Wilson was another disappointment, though not as much of a surprise. His world's Sam was an enemy to Hydra, too convinced in his own views of the world and too stubborn to accept any different.

Earth 108 had no natural mutants, only mutates. As it turned out, the Maximoff twins not only existed in this world, but also had roughly the same powers. Only the origin of those powers was different.

The Pietro of this world had died, and his sister was hardly seen by civilians, obviously she held no interest in using her gift to the betterment of the people.

There had apparently been a Steve Rogers, who had once worn the colors of Captain America and fought for his country. But the man had vanished, chosen the peaceful life of a civilian, over standing by his friends, and protecting those that needed him.

The Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff of this world had also perished, in some big battle that had been fought against an almost almighty being. Steve didn't feel too bad about it, though. After all, he already had secured the loyalty of their undoubtedly superior versions.

While other people with powers existed, not much was known about them, apart from a few appearances. Which told Steve that they hadn't really done anything worth of acknowledgment.

And then he found Spiderman.

Spiderman was a guy who dressed up in blue and red spandex (slight stature, narrow frame, lithe,  but finely muscled), and swung around the city of New York on white strings (“Synthetic spider webs.” Tony had told him, an excited, almost manic gleam in his eyes. “Those are biodegradable, synthetic spider webs, that would have decomposed before I could get them under a microscope, had you brought them to me only an hour later. The tensile strength of these things is through the roof! I have tried reverse engineering it, but there is something about it's components that apparently changes when mixed together, which makes recreating it without knowing the original ingredients pretty much impossible. I want that formula, Cap. And the guy who came up with it. What are you still doing standing around here like the worlds most boring historic statue? Get back to 108 and find out more about that spider guy!”)

So that was exactly what Steve did, and he spent days observing the vigilante hero and learning as much about the young man (the tenor of his voice and the way he talked led Steve to believe the guy was somewhere in his early twenties) as he could.

And that's where the amazement came in.

Now this, this was a hero.

Spiderman didn't choose who deserved his help and who didn't. He climbed up a tree to bring down a stuck cat for a little girl, with the same aura of purpose, as when he jumped recklessly into a burning building to get out the inhabitants the firefighters couldn't reach. He spent hours almost every night, jumping from roof to roof, traveling along the cities many streets and alleys via his webs, to look out for citizens in trouble.

The type of criminal he would take on likewise didn't matter.

Be it a mugger with a knife, a rapist who had drugged his unsuspecting victim, a group of bank robbers with automatic guns, or a mutated villain with delusions of grandeur, or just a simple thirst for revenge, Spiderman fought them all.

And that was perhaps the most fascinating thing about the man. Steve had only been shadowing the vigilante for little more than a week by this point (which was surprisingly hard, the man seemed to sense whenever Steve got too close, and had almost spotted his 'stalker' a few times), but he had witnessed enough to know that Spiderman had enhanced strength, speed, and reflexes.

It should have been easy for him to lay out his opponents. Child's play, really, to kill most of them.

But he didn't. Spiderman pulled every punch, held himself back on every kick. Let himself take damage when there was risk to the civilians around.

Many people didn’t see a distinction between ‘fighting a criminal’ and ‘saving a person’. It was one and the same, wasn’t it? If you fought a mugger, you saved the person they were trying to rob. If you fight a rapist, you save the person they were trying to rape.

But it wasn’t as easy as that.

In Steve’s experience, most ‘heroes’ were created out of a need for revenge. They went out and fought ‘the good fight’, in order to rid the world of those who tried to hurt others. They went out in order to stop crime, and to fight the villain, and to punish the unjust. Saving someone in the process, was a byproduct.

But for Spiderman, the opposite was true.

Spiderman wasn’t out to punish, or to hurt or kill the villains of this world. Spiderman didn’t take on the role of judge, jury and executioner.

Spiderman simply wanted to help others. If helping someone meant holding up a collapsing building, that’s what he did. If helping someone meant fighting a bunch of thugs, that’s what he did. If helping someone meant explaining to them how they could get to a certain part in the city, then that’s what he did.

Steve caught an interview that one of the news reporters did with the vigilante, just after Spiderman (or Spidey, as most of this city seemed to like calling him affectionately), had resolved a hostage situation.

“This is New York News, live on the scene with Spiderman, where the city’s beloved hero has just prevented what could have ended in many causalities. Spidey, what most of our viewers have been dying to know since you first appeared, what made you choose to throw on that skin tight suit and fight crime in the first place?”

It was interesting to note that Spiderman seemed both awkward and shy in front of the camera, but somehow also reveled in the attention.

“Uhm, actually, I think, that is... It’s not so much that I specifically chose to fight crime. Someone who meant a lot to me once told me that ‘With great power, comes great responsibility’. I have these powers, and I’m honestly not sure that I did anything to deserve them at the time, but it is my responsibility to use them for good. Well, at least that’s what I believe.”

That was when Steve knew that Spiderman was exactly what Hydra needed. He could be their poster boy, their front man, the image of ‘goodness’, that the organization lacked. Spiderman could win the support of the civilians, could soften them into accepting Hydra’s rule, while Steve and the others continued their work in the shadows.

There was only one problem.

Spiderman’s obviously stellar moral compass.

He brought the matter up with his team and superiors.

“Would you be able to make him more open to our way of doing things, Wanda?”

“Not without running the risk of completely changing his character. From everything Steve has told us about this man, these things are too deeply ingrained in his being to simply change them.”

“.. There might be a way...”

“Could you elaborate on that, Doctor Schmidt?”

“Well, there are several drugs used in the present to help victims that have been through traumatic events, by replacing the problematic memories with other, harmless, or even happy ones. They are used mostly in the treatment of PTSD in soldiers, or especially traumatized children, who have experienced high levels of abuse. My research team has been working on tweaking the effects of the drug for some time, and we are at a point where I’m positive that we could use it to manipulate a person’s perception of events. If, for example, we use the drug to plant the ‘fact’ that Hydra would never break the law, and he witnessed exactly that, his mind would erase the memory of it as it happened. He would simply be unable to retain the kind of information that would contradict what the drug had planted.”

“Why am I only hearing of this drug now? Wouldn’t that solve the problems we are having with bringing the people around to our way?”

“It’s sadly not applicable for mass distribution. The drug needs to be specifically attuned to the chemical and biological make-up of the person on who it is used. And it must be regularly administered to keep up its effect. So while it may work on one individual, it’s just not possible to manufacture it for hundreds of thousands of people.”

“Very well. What would you need to ‘attune’ the drug to Spiderman?”

“Any kind of organic sample will do. Blood, skin tissue, some hairs... Just anything that carries his DNA.”

“That should be easy enough to accomplish for you, Captain. And while you are at it, try to find out who is beneath the mask.”

“Yes Sir.”

It turned out to be easier than he thought it would be. Spiderman had fought a man with four mechanical arms who called himself Doc Ock. (Well, Spidey had called him Doc Ock, which hadn’t seemed to be sitting all that well with the man.)

While Spiderman had won, he had been wounded. The vigilante had managed to swing himself away from the place that was rapidly filling with onlookers, authorities, and emergency personnel alike, and had come to a painful stop in a dark alley a few miles away. It had taken Steve a few minutes to catch up with him, but once he did, he quickly crouched down in front of the crumpled form of the red and blue clad man, who was leaning weakly against the dirty wall, pressing a hand to his bleeding side, and breathing harshly through his teeth.

He flinched violently when Steve laid a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Easy there, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Cap... Captain... Rogers..? Sir..? I thought you... you were...”

Speaking was evidently hard, so Steve held up a calming hand.

“It’s a long story. Let’s get you some help first.”

He was about to reach over to scoop the slighter man into his arms, but was stopped by a hand on his chest and a rapidly shaking head.

“Can’t... can’t go to.... a hospi.. hospital... It’s okay... ‘ve got a... got a... healing factor... I’ll be fine... Just need a... a few.. “

Accelerated healing. Spiderman really was the perfect hero.

Steve nodded in order to appease the man.

“Okay. Are you sure your wound isn’t too much for your healing factor?”

Spiderman nodded.

“... Just need... to not bleed out... before it can... finish repairing the... damage..”

“Good. Let me help you with that.” He pressed his hand over the slimmer, smaller one that was covering the wound. It tore a pained, but thankfully short, groan from the hero’s lips.

“My instructor in the army used to say that we should be damn grateful if we feel pain, because that means we are still alive. Just keep breathing. You are doing good. Maybe we should take off that mask-”

He reached for it, but his hand was intercepted by a still surprisingly strong grip. He looked right into the masks eyes and spoke in a reassuring tone.

“Don’t worry, we are deep enough in this alley that no one will see. The mask might make it harder for you to breath under these circumstances, and I can’t imagine it feels very comfortable right now. No one will know besides me. Trust me.”

Steve was banking on the fact that his other version had been a well respected and trusted icon to the people of this world. Thankfully, it worked, and his hand was released from the now slightly shaking grip.

Steve had not been prepared for the sight that greeted him once he removed the mask, and he couldn’t help but stare for a few seconds.

Beautiful.

Spiderman was beautiful.

Chestnut curls, almond eyes, pale skin (though that could be due to the blood loss), soft features.

Gorgeous. Just utterly gorgeous.

“Uhm, uh,.. hey. I mean, hi. I... I didn’t really get the... chance to introduce myself,.. last time we met,... so uhm,... hi. I... I’m Peter. P-Peter Parker. I’m... I’m a big.. fan.”

He was blushing through his ramble.

Adorable.

It was too dark, and Peter was too exhausted, to discern the wide smirk on the Captain’s face.

“Hello, Peter Parker.”

It was so easy, after that first meeting.

Steve had stayed crouched before Peter and applied pressure to the sizable wound for a good twenty minutes, before the younger man had judged it safe to use his webs to spray the wound close. He was weak from the blood loss, so Steve had told him to stay right there, while he himself would go and retrieve the backpack with Peter’s civilian clothes for him to change into.

Still shaky and slightly trembling, Peter had gratefully accepted Steve’s arm around his slim waist, and had let the super soldier support him the whole way to his apartment. There Steve had carefully deposited him on his beat up couch, pressed a bottle of water into his hand, and fixed him a quick meal with the ingredients found in the fridge. (Which were pitiful at best. The state of the whole apartment actually left a lot to be desired in Steve’s eyes.)

He had stayed and watched as the younger man ate, refusing all offers of Peter to share the meager portion, and kept lifting up the shirt to check if the temporary bandage had been bled through. (And to covertly stroke over the skin surrounding the wound. And oh, it was just as soft as it looked.)

When the webbing dissolved about an hour later, Steve insisted on cleaning and bandaging the wound himself, which had Peter blushing and stuttering, in-between thanking Steve for his help.

He didn’t notice when the Captain held a small vial to the sluggishly bleeding wound, stealing a few precious drops.

Steve could tell that Peter had questions. Questions that he thought he would be directing at the Captain Rogers from Earth 108. But right then wasn’t the right time to explain things to the vigilante. So Steve again simply scooped the slighter man into a bridal carry (it had Peter blushing so delightfully), and took him into his bedroom. (The overhead light wasn’t working, the mattress was probably as old as Peter himself, and the blanket was thin and had quite a few holes in it. The rickety bed frame squeaked when Steve laid his light burden down on it, and he had a hard time masking his disdain at the blatantly poor accommodations the younger man lived in.)

“How good is your healing? Will you really be okay without seeing a proper doctor?”

The thought had crossed his mind to just whisk the younger man away, into his own dimension, to let him be checked over by Hydra’s doctors. But such a move might be counterproductive. Dr. Schmidt had told him that it would take a few days to code the drug to Spiderman’s genetic structure. Steve didn’t know how well acquainted Peter had been with his own Captain Rogers (though possibly not very well, remembering how Peter had said that he hadn’t had a chance to introduce himself to the older man before), and he hadn’t established himself as a trustworthy figure to the vigilante yet. So there was no telling how Peter would react to not only being in a different universe, but also enjoying the hospitality of a group that was considered the enemy in his world (and in Steve’s world as well, if one wanted to be technical about it).

They had the means to keep Spiderman at the base should things go awry, but if the younger man went into this already carrying a negative impression on either Steve or his group, the drug might not work as intended.

So unless Peter was in immediate danger from his injury, Steve would use the time he had while the scientists manufactured the drug, to earn the vigilante’s trust and affection.

Thankfully, Peter nodded.

“It’s fine. It’s not healed yet, and I will probably have to take it easy for about 2 to 3 days, but it’s gonna be okay. As far as I have narrowed it down, as long as I prevent dying, my healing will patch me back up. Sleeping will help, as will a good meal, though I’m gonna have to go shopping for groceries, I think...”

Since Steve had similar experiences with his own accelerated healing, he knew that it would take more than one good meal to satisfy the high metabolism and boost his body’s healing ability. And judging by everything he had seen so far, the super solider doubted that Peter had the funds for this.

Fortunately, this presented a great opportunity.

“Then how about this,” He smiled charmingly as he gently tucked the holey blanket under the narrow shoulders. “I’ll come by tomorrow morning with some nice breakfast, Then, depending on how well you feel, we will go for a little walk to catch some sun and fresh air. And after that, we will eat in that cozy little diner I found the other day. My treat.”

“No, Captain Rogers, Sir, I couldn’t possibly-”

A simple finger pressed to soft, plush lips, stopped the protest right away.

“Peter, I insist. And really, it’s more for myself than for you. I wouldn’t feel good if I don’t get to check on your wound, and make sure that you eat well. Also, please call me Steve. Captain and Sir seems far too formal.” (Though it might be fun being called that under different circumstances...)

As Peter tried protesting anew (stubborn little spider), Steve added

“Also, there is something I need to discuss with you. A favor, really. So, just take this as my thanks for your help.”

Peter frowned. “What if I’m not the right guy for the job?”

“You are.”

-

The next four days were a dream. Steve had gotten the blood sample back to his world, and Doctor Schmidt and his team had started on it right away. As promised, he had been bright and early at Peter’s pitiful apartment the next morning, with an assortment of breakfast food (courtesy of Tony’s wallet, who had managed to amount quite a bit of a fortune for Hydra in his free time, using only a computer).

The spider-powered hero took surprisingly well to being told about different dimensions and universes. (Steve had had to cut off the excited science-techno-babble though, as it frankly went right over his head.) “Well, it explains how you are here. No one has really seen Captain Rogers after the last great battle, and according to Sergeant Barnes, he is happily retired.”

Even when Steve told him about the Hydra in his world being the good guys, that they were their version of Peter’s world’s Shield, the younger man accepted his words as the truth without much complaint. Though a bit of the easy compliance was probably due to Steve mentioning how fascinated Stark had been by his webs.

“Stark? T-Tony Stark? You have a Tony Stark in your world? He... he is alive in your world?”

Well, the Tony Stark that was originally from Steve’s world was dead, but there was no reason to tell Peter that.

“Right, I heard about Iron Man’s death here. I’m sorry, Peter. Were you close?”

This could work in their favor.

“N-not exactly close... I wouldn’t say. Just. He figured out who I was, back when I started going out as Spiderman. I was still new to the whole hero/vigilante thing, and I ... I made some mistakes. He offered to take me under his wing, show me the ropes. He even made me a new and better suit!”

Steve frowned.

“He gave you that spandex suit?” That thing couldn’t even protect Peter from a harsh wind!

Peter’s expression fell right away.

“Uh, no. The suit he made me was... it was super awesome. Intelligent nano-tech with its own A.I. I named her Karen. But... after Mr Stark died... “

The Captain had laid a consoling hand on his shoulder.

“I understand, Peter. Listen, if you don’t think you can face Tony-”

“No, no. I want to help you, even though I’m still not sure why you think I’m a good candidate for that. And it might be, good? to see him again... I mean I know he isn’t the Tony Stark I knew, but... I will help you.”

“After you have fully healed. I will take you with me and introduce you to everyone, and when we are there I will be better able to fully explain everything to you. And Peter? Thank you.”

Steve made use of the time spent together to learn what he could about the young hero. Peter was 23 years old and working freelance for a big newspaper. When Steve inquired about college, the younger man awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, and confessed to not having pursued a higher education, due to not being able to afford it. “I mean, I was offered a few scholarships from different universities, but those only paid for tuition. I still needed to come up with the money for living expanses and some of the text books I would need on my own. And going to college, plus getting a job, plus being Spiderman... I would have liked studying, but I don’t regret choosing Spiderman over it.”

Steve learned that Peter was a genuinely nice and warm person, with a good head on his shoulders, and a huge soft spot for animals (dogs especially).

“It’s probably a good thing that my apartment complex doesn’t allow pets. I can barely scrape the money together to feed myself.”

Peter was a bit of a nerdy geek with a dorky sense of humor, and once he started rambling about something he felt passionate about, it could be quite some time before you got him to stop.

It was endearing.

When Peter had insisted on taking Steve sightseeing (and asking a seemingly endless series of questions about all the differences between the two versions of New York), and Steve had casually mentioned that he liked to sketch and draw in his free time upon seeing an artist in Central Park, Peter had looked at him with wide eyes and pure admiration.

“Can I see your paintings? I have no talent for art, but the way people can take a pencil or a piece of charcoal or whatever and just create amazing images, has always fascinated me. Though I don’t really get some of the styles that are just random lines and splotches everywhere, but sometimes you look at a drawing and it makes you feel things, you know? And I just really love looking at art sometimes, or watching someone draw. I can’t tell you how many hours I have spent binging Bob Ross. But you don’t have to! I totally get if you would rather keep it private.”

Just when Steve thought he couldn’t possibly fall for Peter any more than he already had.

When Dr. Schmidt informed him that the drug had been completed at the same day that Peter reported his injury fully healed, Steve couldn’t help the feeling that this must be fate.

Clearly, Peter had always meant to be in his world, with his team, by his side.

He convinced the younger man to leave his suit at home.

“It wouldn’t do for your fans to recognize you and follow us. They might think your Captain America has returned to throw Spiderman into a wormhole or something. And besides, Tony has been quite adamant about giving you a better suit. He doesn’t want to undermine your grief, but he said that if your Tony was anything like him, he would be positively devastated that his protege was running around in spandex.”

Peter, perfect thing that he was, agreed.

When the inter-dimensional portal closed behind them, the two were greeted by Steve’s team and Doctor Schmidt, who was holding a syringe. It was time for the final act.

Peter hadn’t noticed the doctor, nor did he really pay attention to the other persons in the room. His eyes were fixed on one Tony Stark. Said man grinned widely and stepped closer.

“Spiderman! Or do you prefer Peter when you are not suited up? It’s good to finally meet you.”

Needless to say, he was quite taken aback when in the next second, the younger man flung himself against the genius in a hug.

Peter’s voice was muffled from where his face was pressed into Tony’s chest.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I know you are not him. And you are probably also not the hugging type. Mr Stark wasn’t, either. Just, just a moment... please.”

Tony wasn’t a man easily led by emotion or empathy, but this once, he made an exception. After all, Peter would become family soon. So the older and just slightly taller man returned the hug, and softly patted Peter on the back.

“It’s alright, kid. I get it.”

The brunette got a hold of himself shortly after, and apologized profusely, but Tony waved him off.

“Seriously kid, it’s okay.”

Somehow, the others managed to interject and introduce themselves to Peter. Wade naturally flirted with the brunette right of the bat, and while Peter blushed hard at the mercenary’s many pick-up lines (Steve did not appreciate the scene all that much), he also had a way of talking to the man that seemed to work very well with the hyperactive insanity that made up Deadpool.

“Peter?” 

Peter quickly turned to face the Captain. Which was when he finally noticed the older man in the lab coat, who was carrying a capped syringe in his hand.

“Peter, this is Doctor Schmidt, Hydra’s head of the medical department.”

Peter nodded in acknowledgement, but the sight of the syringe had him a little on edge, and he didn’t step any closer. Steve seemed to notice the source of his hesitance.

“Don’t worry, Pete, I promise it’s nothing sinister. I forgot to tell you beforehand, that’s on me. The thing with traveling to different universes, is that you are basically a foreign matter. It’s, uhm-”

Steve looked to the doctor next to him, hoping he would take over the explanation. They had gone over the story they would feed Peter to accept the drug two times, but Steve simply wasn’t a man of science and didn’t feel confident to deliver the words with the needed certainty for the younger man to believe him. Thankfully Schmidt took the hint.

“Are you familiar with the practice of organ transplantation, Mister Parker?”

“Yes. I mean, I’m no professional, but I know the theory and procedure behind it. Peter is fine, by the way, Doctor.”

Schmidt smiled kindly.

“Then you are familiar with the problems of transplant rejection, during which the body has an immune response to the transplanted organ, possibly leading to transplant failure. Which is something that modern medicine has found a way to prevent, through the use of immune-suppressant drugs.”

Peter’s eyes widened in understanding. (Steve loved how expressive Peter’s face was. How he could always tell when the younger man was working out a puzzle in his mind, and the exact moment when he solved it and his eyes would light up.)

“So another universe is like a different organism, and people traveling from one universe to another, are like donor organs, that get implanted into this new organism.”

“Right. What I’m holding in my hand, if we follow up on this analogy, is an ‘immune-suppressant’, that will prevent our ‘organism’ to reject you. The Captain has likewise taken this medicine every time he visited another universe, so I can assure you, it is completely harmless.”

Peter visibly relaxed.

“Yeah, no, I get it. I hadn’t even thought there might be something like this to consider with inter-dimensional travel, but it makes a lot of sense. Wouldn’t want to unbalance your universe with my presence here, or start glitching out of existence or something like that. Do you mind if I sit down for this? Not that I’m scared of needles or anything, but... yeah.”

God, he was cute. Steve couldn’t help the little chuckle that slipped out. (And he wasn’t alone. Bucky and Natasha were smirking, Pietro and Wade tipped their heads in sympathy to Peter, and Wanda and Tony were laughing lightly.)

“That will be no problem, Peter.”

The young hero didn’t worry when his spidey-sense tingled slightly as the needle came closer to his skin. His fear of needles was likely just feeding into the instinct.

It took only about two minutes for the drug to take affect. Peter’s pupils were blown huge, and he was swaying slightly in the chair as if drunk.

“We have estimated that it is safe to implant up to three new facts in the subjects mind. Say his name each time before you state a fact. List the facts clearly, so that his mind will have an easier time to categorize and save them away. Have him repeat the key fact after each time. Positive affirmation may help to anchor the new facts in his subconscious. It’s important that you keep eye contact with him during the whole thing.”

Steve nodded and crouched down in front of the drugged man, so that their eyes were at the same height. He carefully framed Peter’s face between both his large hands, and guided him gently to look directly at him.

“Peter.”

He saw how the almond eyes focused immediately.

“Fact 1: Hydra are the good guys. Hydra would never do anything bad. Say it.”

His voice came out slightly robotic, but grew in conviction with every word.

“Fact 1: Hydra are the good guys. Hydra would never do anything bad.”

Steve smiled and stroked his thumbs over Peter’s cheek bones.

“Good boy.”

Even though he was still a bit loopy due to the drug, the praise seemed to make him more attentive. What a perfect, perfect little spider.

“Peter. Fact 2: Hydra is your family. Everyone in this room especially, is your friend. You don’t want to go back to your own dimension, even if it means taking the ‘immune-suppressant’ every week. Say it.”

Peter repeated the words dutifully and Steve rewarded him with a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Good boy.”

The younger man smiled dizzily at him.

“Peter. Fact 3: You love me. You are in love with me. We are in a relationship. You love it when I touch you. You love it when I kiss you. You love it when I fuck you. Say it.”

“I love you. I’m in love with you. We are in a relationship. I love it when you touch me. I love it when you kiss me. I love it when you fuck me.”

This one deserved a filthy kiss on the lips. Steve smirked. Victory had never tasted as sweet.

“Good boy.”

-

They waited about an hour for the drug to wear off, before they tested the effectiveness of Peter’s conditioning.

The spider enhanced brunette stood close to Steve’s side, who lazily stroked a finger along Peter’s spine. It made the younger man shudder so deliciously.

Two Hydra agents dragged in a woman in handcuffs, who was shooting everyone in the room venomous looks, but stoically kept her mouth shut.

Peter frowned at the scene.

“What’s going on?”

“This woman broke into one of our secured bases, and was caught trying to hack our servers. We believe she was looking for a shipment of dangerous weapons we confiscated from a dealer a few days ago.”

At this the woman, who was a member of the resistance working against Hydra’s growing influence, scoffed.

“That what you are telling to feed the masses, Captain Hydra? Pathetic!”

Thankfully, Peter couldn’t see the venomous look his boyfriend gave the woman. When he looked up at him, Steve’s face had cleared of all hostility.

“So why is she here, and not in prison?”

“We believe she is part of a larger organization connected to the black markets. So we brought her here in order to hopefully get some Intel on that. Agent Harper, your gun please.”

As soon as the gun was passed over to the Captains hand, Steve shot the woman right between the eyes. She collapsed dead in the hold of the two Agents that had brought her in.

But Steve’s focus wasn’t on the enemy’s lifeless body, but on Peter. The younger man looked at the scene before, blinked once, and then turned to Steve with a nod.

“Okay. I’m sure you and Bucky will get her to talk in no time. I should get going now, I need to make myself familiar with this version of New York, and Tony said he has a suit ready for me. Wade offered his services as tour guide.”

He grinned brightly and stood up on his tip toes to press a small kiss to the corner of Steve’s lips.

“Have fun, darling. And remember, if Wade gets too handsy, web him to a wall somewhere.”

Peter laughed. Steve would never get tired of hearing that sound.

“You are sexy when you are jealous. Tell me what you find out from her when I get back. Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

A quick kiss goodbye, and Peter was happily jogging out of the room to meet up with Deadpool and get his new suit from Tony.

Steve watched him go with a satisfied smile on his face, before turning to the agents.

“Dispose of her body. And inform Dr. Schmidt and his team that the test was successful.”

__________________________________________

The End.

#spideyshield #spidershield #dark!Steve #alternate universe #dimension travel #fic #captain hydra #manipulative!Steve #drug use #dub con #dub/con #Peter is drugged #Peter is tricked #alternative avengers #hydra #peter parker #steve rogers #wade wilson #tony stark #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes #ask #prompt #op lurafita

[deewani]

Welcome to Night Vale live blogging

OK! So I waited whole month for all 3 parts to come out so I could have my experience in one go. I did not really know anything about what it's going to be (beside a fact it's going to be Kevin 3 parter), so all information were new to me.

Without further ado... my first ever (And probably last but will see xD) livebloging experience :D.

****

Part one

Ok... So Desert Bluffs doesn't experience night?  xD

Am I the only only who is insanely creeped out by sweet tone of voice Kevin uses? This tone of voice makes things he is saying (well... mostly implying) even more gory.

Smile parade... *shudders* And they stare into each other's... EYE SOCKETS?!

Josephine in Desert Bluffs lived with demons... xD

So Kevin doesn't know how to spell names of other cities and states as well? Cool xD.

Oh my god it's basically a repeat of 1st episode of Night Vale! Kevin has his own Carlos! Damn... I am both happy... And disturbed xD. We all know how much Cecil and Carlos love and support each other... And seeing that Desert Bluffs is basically a twisted version of Night Vale/mirror universe... damn.

Wait... had he just convinced a mayor to build something else than was already planned?  O_o just how much power does he have in Desert Bluffs?!

Oh my god... I kinda already ship Kevin with Charles? I don't wanna. I know it's going to only lead to pain... But Kevin saying Charles was one of the few people who had just looked at him with kindness and smiled at him and treated him like human being... and Kevin is thankful. I... um... wow.

Btw. Knowing "It Devours" and knowing what Kevin believes is Smiling God makes a lot of difference in the way I imagine what is going on every time when he mentions his "god" xD.

Kevin basically has whole city in his pocket... wow.

First date already? Charles, you fast xD.

****

Part two

"Age is just a number that counts quickly upward to the ending point"... Well... can't find a lie in this sentence xD

Kevin has just as bad sense of fashion as Cecil does... cool xD. So does Charles... Does it mean that Carlos would have really bad sense of fashion as well if he wasn't wearing lab coats all the time? xD

Um... Kevin boy... you already banged? Good for you xD.

Your smile makes glass shatter... cool... I guess? xD

Wait does Kevin tell people to ditch work to build a religious monument? Ok? Wow... a lot had changed. He was corporation crazy with a side of religious crazy... now he is just religious crazy. Really disturbingly religious crazy...

Another date? Cool. You boys really fast xD (it took Carlos and Cecil a year... Kevin and Charles one meeting... xD)

Charles have a son. Cool. Kevin doesn't seem thrilled... :P

Wait... they were building a monument for God... And they suddenly can't understand each other? Wow. The Tower of Babel? (Btw. I love they included sign language as another language that got mixed up. But what was I expecting, it's Welcome to Night Vale after all, the show was always good when it comes to representation).

Kevin, honey, you talk gibberish.

Hm... Charles has the same voice Carlos had before his throat surgery? xD I wonder if he will get his new voice too xD.

Ok. This episode is reply of a "Phone call"... just how much does Desert Bluffs mirror Night Vale?

Sad face... Charles is sad because Kevin had not contacted him and he thinks it's because Charles have a son... :(

****

Part three

Media... you mean you? By media you mean you? xD

Yup... media is you :P.

Lauren being a mayor... no wonder why she does what Kevin wants her to do. She is terrified of him :P.

Kevin is a prophet of Smiling God... so Cecil is a prophet of Huntokar?

Yay another Kevin-Charles date :D. And Kevin seems to like Charles' son? Good.

Um... Donny is creepy. You have a creepy son Charles... no wonder Kevin doesn't creep you out.

Wow... you can't speak again ms Mayor. Something/someone really doesn't want you to build this monument.

Oh my god... what? Like... what the hell xD. Theatre company wants to make a play about Kevin being asshole... other people want to burn him alive? Oh Kevin... you went a bit too far. They no longer feel comfortable with him being a self-proclaimed prophet? :P

Kevin wants to ditch Donny again and have one on one date with Charles but Charles wants three of them to spend time together... My drama-senses are tingling :P.

Kevin is in power again. Damn boy, how powerful are you.

Desert Bluffs doesn't have a mayor too? Niicccee.

"HATE" is a strong language for you Kevin? Huh... but Charles is right, though. Charles and Donny are a package deal. You either take him with son or no Charles at all.

Donny is some sort of prophet of a god? Oh well. So I guess he is a reason why Kevin can be in power again. Still... Kevin was the one who figured it out :P.

Kevin said he is proud of Donny... ♡ Fuck I really don't wanna ship Kevin with Charles but it's hard not to.

(Wait... Does it mean Cecilos will have a baby too? Awww)

#wtnv #welcome to night vale #spoilers for mudstone abyss #long post

[bubble-tea-bunny]

no fairytale 

[erik killmonger x reader]

author’s note: i’m in love w michael b jordan bye

word count: 1,425

On the night Erik meets you, it’s dark save for the flash of lights, blues and purples bouncing off everyone’s faces. The bass makes the walls vibrate and the room is burning like the surface of the sun. He weaves his way through the throng of bodies, in the direction of the bar. Visibility is always shit in here but this isn’t his first time so he does just fine navigating the space. It feels as though the ground is shaking beneath his feet, brought to life by the DJ and the dancers. And he’s half inclined to join them, to drown himself in the noise. But he decides he’ll head back out when he’s gotten a few (or several) drinks in him, for the lights are prettiest through hazy vision and the music best experienced when accompanied by the buzz in your brain.

He has to speak up, at a volume very nearly a yell, for the bartender to hear him. He sits tight waiting for his order, eyes on the crowd and the energy he swears he can see pulsing within, connecting and joining strangers who will remember fuck all come morning. The moment one steps through the double doors and into the Atlas, it’s a different world. There are no clocks besides what you keep on your wrist or in your pocket or in your purse. People like to say time stands still in the Atlas, and maybe it does, as long as you never check.  

The burn of alcohol sliding down Erik’s throat is familiar, and he drains the tumbler in one swig. He sets it down on the wooden bar a little aggressively, and it clacks loudly, but it’s practically silent when compared to the music blasting through the club. Then he orders another, and another, and one more for good measure. And it occurs to him he’s probably started building a high tolerance because his vision isn’t hazy yet, nor is there a buzz. Shit. He really has been here a lot. But the Atlas is an addiction you can’t shake. Not that anyone would want to.

He drinks until he gets to where he needs to be, and when the strobes seem the slightest bit blurrier, he thinks this is more like it. It feels warmer than it had been when he first got here but that’s not saying much. The dance floor is inviting him in and he listens to its whispers still audible despite the EDM pounding at his eardrums. And he gets lost with the rest of them, bright colors sliding over his face. He’s drifting in this sea with no course to sail, no destination.

At one point he brushes against someone, and he turns to see you in your red dress, hugging every curve like it was made for you. You smile at him but it looks more like a smirk and it’s written across your face that if he’s looking for a partner, he’s found one. The perfect one. And he smirks and takes you up on your silent offer, and the slide of satin against the palm of his hand feels otherworldly. He thinks for sure he’s burning up, wings melting. They won’t be missed. If the Atlas is the sun, you’re the core.

You smell like blossoms in the spring and feel like rain in the summer. He’s had a few drinks but you’re getting him drunker and he dips down to lay a few kisses along your neck, and you giggle because it tickles. You angle your head to give him better access and he groans, which you can’t hear, but you can feel it on your skin. His hands are gripping your waist in a vice, but before he can squeeze and bring you even closer, like you know he wants to, you twist around and out of his hold, and you can’t help but smile amusedly at his confused frown. It’s quick to disappear, traded for an expression of understanding, as you lead him away.

You bring him to your apartment and to a bed with silk sheets a shade of red to match your dress that quickly finds a new home on the floor. Everything is soft—so soft. The bedsheets, your skin, your moans. Nothing like the rough and tumble of the club, and Erik could confidently say he’s never experienced anything like this. He murmurs that you’re something else entirely, you in this bed like some corner of heaven, or maybe this is hell and he’s been dragged down but if this is your domain, he doesn’t want to leave. Your smirk is sinister and he’s looking for horns through hazy vision. Maybe you’re the devil, and he’s come to your throne.

Your eyes are dark and it’s not from the lack of lights in the bedroom. They seem familiar to him because they look like his own—the burn, the resolution. To achieve what you want and to do it well, no matter the cost. They say eyes are windows but he’s wondering if yours are mirrors, for they are too much like his, and he never thought any heart could compete with the shadow in his. But even the alcohol can’t fuck up something like this. And he knows, as the moonlight caresses your face and your half-lidded eyes seem almost red, that they are windows into a soul as dark as his. You’re the devil looking for a king.

Ambition looks good on you. If there was something you wanted, you had no trouble manipulating the cogs, moving pieces on the chessboard with no regard to rules. You didn’t wait for things to happen. You made them happen. That aggressive spirit resonates with Erik’s own. It’s why he’d stayed. The two of you are destructive and poisonous but when it comes to each other, you’re immune. It’s art, really. You’re more powerful together. He told you once that the both of you could take over the world, and you looked at him, perfectly beautiful and menacing, and asked Well, why don’t we?

It’s a gloomy Saturday when tiny rain droplets race each other down the floor to ceiling windows in your living room. You’re on the floor, right in front of the glass, knees drawn up to your chest and arms wrapped around them securely. You hardly pay any mind to the noises Erik makes as he emerges from the bathroom fresh from a shower and rifles through the drawer for a shirt and a pair of sweats. The rain has been non-stop for almost a week now, the clouds heavy and gray. Red’s your favorite color but gray is a close second.

“Forecast says it’s supposed to clear up by Tuesday,” Erik remarks as he sits next to you.

You raise a brow, eyes never leaving the dark skies. “Shame. I like the rain.”

Erik snakes a hand around your waist to pull you to him. You loosen your arms from around your knees and lean into him, flattening out your legs and settling for folding them at a slight angle so you can sit more comfortably. You stay like that for a while. And Erik isn’t content with simply holding you, so he turns his head to nuzzle your hair, inhaling deeply the smell of blossoms. He closes his eyes to focus on the sensation of the scent flooding his veins, finding its way into his brain where it will remain forever.  

“I want a kingdom, Erik,” you comment. Your voice is gentle but the determination is clear. You’re not saying it to be poetic. You mean it.

Erik chuckles and smiles a little as he returns to gazing out the windows with you. “I’ll give you the universe, baby.”

At this, you smile as well, a slight upturn of the lips Erik loves more than a lot of things in this world. You glance up at him, with eyes deceptively bright from the glare of overcast skies. But he knows better. The demons which float around within you make them dark, reaching out and beckoning him in. He follows gladly. His own demons need companions after all. “Promise?”

The rain starts falling harder and it seems to echo off the walls and the wooden floors. This high place is your castle but you aim to climb higher still, as high as you can get. Your apartment is ground zero and the two of you will build your own tower of Babel, all the way to heaven.

#erik killmonger x reader #erik killmonger imagine #black panther imagine #erik killmonger #black panther #marvel #marvel imagine #bubble-tea-bunny

[bookishreviewsblog]

Roshan Chokshi: The Gilded Wolves (The Gilded Wolves #1) | Lara

AN INSTANT NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER From New York Times bestselling author Roshani Chokshi comes The Gilded Wolves, a novel set in Paris during a time of extraordinary change—one that is full of mystery, decadence, and dangerous desires... No one believes in them. But soon no one will forget them. It's 1889. The city is on the cusp of industry and power, and the Exposition Universelle has breathed new life into the streets and dredged up ancient secrets. Here, no one keeps tabs on dark truths better than treasure-hunter and wealthy hotelier Séverin Montagnet-Alarie. When the elite, ever-powerful Order of Babel coerces him to help them on a mission, Séverin is offered a treasure that he never imagined: his true inheritance. To hunt down the ancient artifact the Order seeks, Séverin calls upon a band of unlikely experts: An engineer with a debt to pay. A historian banished from his home. A dancer with a sinister past. And a brother in arms if not blood. Together, they will join Séverin as he explores the dark, glittering heart of Paris. What they find might change the course of history—but only if they can stay alive.

“Wolves were everywhere. In politics, on thrones, in beds. They cut their teeth on history and grew fat on war.” 

Aaaaaalright, so before picking up this book I had no idea that was exactly something I needed in my life and now I’m left with a question of how I’m going to survive wait of yet ANOTHER sequel that is nowhere near finished. I decided to give this book a shot since I saw a lot of amazing reviews and recommendations, and it is SO WORTH IT. Reading it made me so genuinely happy and I was basically gliding through the chapters by the time I finished. The pure adoration for The Gilded Wolves hit me as the book was coming to an end. The book was really good, but it takes its time to get there. For the first 30% or so I felt mostly indifferent towards plot and most of the characters – there just wasn’t anything special going on and characters were only starting to develop. The plot takes time to unfold and action to kick in, but when it does, it becomes a wild flipping pages and reading faster than I thought I ever could. It takes place in the 19th century in Paris, during the Exposition Universelle. Among the grand balls, operas and shows combined with an extensive and detailed history of Paris, there is a world hidden from the public – magic, powers of Forging and a secret organization called The Order. The Order is in charge of protecting The Babel’s Fragment from the public’s attention, or rather, protecting the public from its immense and destructive power. Séverin is the rightful heir to the House Vanth – one of the four Houses leading the order, but his claim to the lineage has been denied ten years ago and he’s been trying a way to annul the results of the faked test ever since. The other three Houses are called Kore, Nyx and The Fallen House – the one that was destroyed after trying to unite all Rings and Fragment in order to bring down entire civilization of the time. After stealing his valuable Chinese compass, Séverin gets an offer, or more a threat from House Nyx’s heir Hypnos. He is to take his team and acquire the Eye of Horus, an object that is rumored to have the power of locating the Fragment itself. Only that way will he be able to keep his friends safe and, maybe, getting back what is rightfully his. As soon as I’ve gotten into the spirit of it, I was instantly pulled into a swirl of action, plot twists and amazing world building Chokshi so carefully laid out for us. There was just so many surprises and those plot twists and carefully planned course of events got me in a state of eternal euphoria. This book is intertwined with elements from several different mythologies and histories of several different religions, conceptualized kind of like DaVinci’s Code. I felt a bit overwhelmed from time to time by that mix of facts from a lot of different sources, but all in all, it was an amazing combination of schemes, puzzles, mathematics, history and “acquisitions”. I’m in love, I think I might take up a job of digging out hieroglyphs. The most beautiful, amazing part of this were characters – I had to instantly add more room in my heart for new fictional crushes. All of them were so thoroughly developed, their interactions and backstories connected creating tension and conflict, but also so much love and understanding. I can’t ever get enough of squad-family goals. I’m melting inside. Laila- THE absolute queen of everything. Laila is an Indian girl who came to Paris with a group of dancers, in pursuit of an ancient book that has answers about her past. Also known as L’Engime, one of the Paris’s most popular dancers, she is desired by literally half of the city’s population but that fucking doesn’t matter because she has eyes only for our homeboy Séverin. She is so a strong badass and powerful, not to mention hot as hell – I mean she is literally *spoiler* sewn together in a foreign body and has a kickass mysterious power. Séverin – He is the ultimate dad of L’Eden squad. I just loved reading about his past, obsession with recovering his family line and so-called “acquisitions” (let’s be honest he’s just thieving around hahaha). *spoiler for ending* I so needed that ending – I’m sorry for Tristan, but his death shaped Severin’s character and further development, and TENSION between him and Laila and I’m doneee Zofia – none of the other characters made such a huge impression on me as Laila and Séverin, but crazy scientist with past chasing her isn’t far behind Hypnos – little “you can’t sit with us” cinnamon roll, is lucky Séverin adopted him Tristan and Enrique kind of annoyed me half of the book, the other half I just didn’t acknowledge them, idk I just didn’t see anything in them… “When you are who they expect you to be, they never look too closely. If you're furious, let it be fuel.” After THAT ending (which contained like 4 cliffhangers and brought me to tears!) I don’t know how do I move on ;(

#books #book review #youngadult #mythology #roshani chokshi #the gilded wolves #fantasy #historical fiction

[willshineonedayy]

Blog của Bo

i have a lovely theory about rainbows.

So we all know the myth of goblins and unicorn and pots of gold under one end of the rainbow or on the side of it. I don't know if you notice or not, but throughout history, human tend to go towards the rainbow. This is something i realized at a very young age: every time someone say "rainbow", others will probably rush towards the closest door or window and look upon the sky. Looking at the the myth, I guess this tendency is understandable. I mean, unicorn? UNICORN? WHO DOESN'T WANT TO SEE A FUCKING UNICORN?!

And with that, generations of the human race rushed to the rainbow; raindrops lurking through their shoes, sunshine sparkled on the cheeks of their _amare_. They rushed out for, well, who knows? Some went for the gold: it was wealth that they were seeking. Some went for goblins: they desired cleverness, treachery, and trickery. The others - those who wished for spectacles and a feast of the eyes - searched the unicorns.

and off they go. off they go. oooooooffff theyy goooooo. *whoop whoop*

But they never found anything. No rainbows. No pots of gold, no goblins, no unicorns. Nothing.

In fact, they weren't even close. The further they went, the further from the rainbows they were. The faster they went, the longer it took. They also failed to navigate: sometimes, they thought the rainbow was turning around and increasing or decreasing in size. And they never ever found anything. But hey, that didn't stop human from searching for rainbows and their offerings. The Neanderthals walked to the rainbow out of sheer admire and desire for the rainbow itself; so did the first homo sapiens. Ancient man used horses and chariots. Cleopatra rode her slave-cart. Alexander the Great rushed his army. Emperor Qin Shihuang buried horses and men under the Great Wall to continue his rainbow quest in hell - yes, even dead people are haunted by rainbow and its offerings. Galileo made a telescope in an attempt to oversee the rainbow, and da Vinci's model of "flying machine" was supposed to be a breakthrough in the search for rainbow. Kids today go on private jets and Ferrari (the car brand that made a horse its symbol), using satelittle scans and navigators. Some even said that the rainbow quest is the only purpose of the Illuminati.

We human also seek rainbow virtually and spiritually. Rainbow is deified: it appears next to Jesus, to Aphrodite, sometimes in descriptions of angels or star signs. Rainbow is believed to bring happiness and joy, and in fact, it is joyful watching a rainbow. We take pictures of them, tag them along with a few cheesy lines, and instagram up they go. Human has became so obsessed with the desire for rainbow, it rooted down to their unconscious as a type of collective dream and collective memory.

Okay so the thing is, rainbows don't just stand still. They move.

The reason of the movement of rainbows can't be understood without some ancient Greek theories. In _Symposium_, which is a book by Plato, Aristophanes tells the story of Tower Babel. Back in the old old, far away days, there were three sexes: the male, the female, and the androgynous who was half male half female. Funny thing is that, all sexes were all round shaped with four hands, four legs, two faces, two sets of sexual organs - very much like two human beings attached together. With that being said, one male was actually two males in one unity, one female was two females in one unity, and one androgynous was a male and a female in one unity. My oh my, the human race was powerful: they were quick, strong, and intelligent. So powerful, one day they decided that they would reach to Zeus - like not through praying but physically knocking on the gate of heaven, and no this is not "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin. To do that, the human race created a tower. They named it Babel. The plan was to build it, and build it, and build it, higher and higher so that it could reach heaven someday.

I guess Zeus was not paying much attention. He probably went "pffffft mấy thằng ngôn lù ảo tưởng" when he saw the Tower at first, and then went fucking around. And guess what? By the time he returned, the Tower was actually about to drill a hole on the floor of his house. So he went "ê đm đéo ổn ròi" with all the other gods. Clearly it was unacceptable, so the gods tried to find a solution. They can't kill the human - that would decrease the offerings. Destroying the tower was meaningless for the human would just start over. Finally, they - well Zeus - came up with an idea: he would use his lightning to split all human into half, thus reduce their strength and intelligence and increase them in numbers (aka more worships and sacrifice). Apollo would then turn each person's head toward the wound as a reminder of the cut. Less brain, less brawn, no tower. Gods of Olympus 1, pathetic race of human 0.

The story was rather different in the Bible. It said that Zeus created a thing called "language" All of a sudden, human were not capable of communicating in mass. Different groups started building in different ways, thus making the complete of the Tower impossible. Whether it is the Bible or Symposium, human longed for connection after the split. Each half craved for its other half, craved for the desire of growing together, getting old together, and dying together. They wanted to be felt, to be connected, to understand and be understood without saying by and with the right person, their one and only. Each of us today is a matching half of an unity. Those split from male seek male, those split from woman seek woman, and those split from androgynous seek for the other gender. Each of us has a perfect other on this planet. And my oh my, each of us is looking for that half.

And that, my darling, happens to be the story of love.

This is what Plato and the Bible didn't mention: the desire for love and for the perfect match was so strong, it caught the attention of Aphrodite. Pitying the poor human, she left a hint. Aphrodite located all the couples, and drew a curvy line to connect them. Each line will directly emerge from the two halves of a couple, and after so many lives and identities, the halves are, once again, connected. And if the two halves follow the line and successfully return to each other, they will find the ultimate offering of life.

They will find love.

But things were not just that - it can't be that easy to find love. Aphrodite created obstacles. She put goblins, gold, and unicorns under the rainbow so if human didn't see it clear and think it wise, they could only see gold and goblins and unicorns.

And that, my darling, is the origin of rainbows, and the explanation why they don't stand still. People don't stand still. Nothing stands still - life is about never-ending movements. We all need things to move forward to. Wealth for some, treachery for other, entertainment for another. And so we run and run and run and run towards the meaningless. We get blinded easily. The pressures of life and demands of society blur us from the true meaning of life, from love. We keep on chasing redundant things and forget the one thing that is important. Love.

and just like that, we are drifted away.

My dear, my dear,

whenever the day gets dark and the dreams get scary, when reality can't be told from imaginary, whenever you feel down, think of your perfect match. Indulge yourself with the thought of someone who will love you unconditionally, who will always be there for you, who understands you more than you, who will hug you and kiss you and hold your hands. Think of that, your perfect match, your destined partner since the earliest lives. Someone who you totally deserve. Someone who is born for you and from you and the other way around. Whenever life knocks you down, think of love.

And it is okay to try. Love is also a test. Therefore, it is okay to try it out with someone else. Who knows if that someone else is your true half or not? But always bear in mind that, the false hallucination of love is another obstacle preventing us from getting to love. If you close your door, you may protect yourself from dust and dirt and noise. But you will also cross out sunlight, the scent of spring flowers, the taste of autumn leaves, the sound of summer rain, and the warmth of winter snow. When love knocks, open, and go. And whenever you see a rainbow, please celebrate the joy of unity. Another two are connected and perfected. And someday, oh my dear, someday, your turn will come. Someday, you will glow and light will decorate your lips, brighten your eyes and lurk through your hair. Rainbow will rain over you, and you will be connected. You will feel whole. You are secured. you are loved by an eternal lover.

And I will be there, at the end of the rainbow.

Put away the gold, kick the goblins out, and cage the unicorns. Look into your heart. See love. Feel love. Celebrate love.

for love is all we need.

[zeemonkey1]

Pigs

In which George buildeth a dadgum thumb

Allie Whoops is the Scrappy-Doo of Curious George. When I am forced to watch the Curious George movies, I hope the big reveal at the end shows a furious little Allie Whoops drunk-driving a Dalek, right before somebody pinches her smarmy little head off. Honestly, I thought I hated Bill, but Bill never made me want to hammer nails into my ears. Her voice is like listening to Pinkie Pie laugh about how much fun it is to dig a hole in a chalkboard with a fork. Together, Bill and Allie rule the land of non-sequitur stupidity with such hideous aplomb that Dryden should be disinterred and forced to write a poem about them.

I seriously hate that little red-haired trick. If any of my girls turned out to be anything like that obnoxious monster I would personally apologize to the UN. Sometimes I think Curious George should do a crossover episode with Game of Thrones and tell Melisandre that Allie is the long-lost second daughter of Stannis the Mannis.

Or maybe it is her grandparents’ fault. I have never seen her parents, but Mr. and Mrs. Renkins let Allie run all over creation, completely unsupervised, in the company of a monkey. I do not believe social workers exist in the Curious George universe.

So today’s episode shows how much fun it is to be gaslighted by everyone and play in the mud. Either the writer was high or he hates me personally. Imagine, if you will, trying to explain the plot of the Terminator movies to an Andaman tribesman, because the plot of this episode made exactly the same amount of sense to me. Indeed, if you had not the power of Hulu and PBS, you might suspect that none of this really happened and I was just blabbing about a dream I think I had.

So it’s raining, and George and Allie are sitting on the front steps of a country house, bored. Bill shows up and throws a newspaper on the roof. He explains his aim is off because he strained his thumb, an injury that was caused,

sweet Jesus I wish I were lying

by a “thumb-wrestling” accident. Before I have a chance to ponder what powerful hands could sprain a thumb in such an inane way, George clambers up to get the paper and delivers another plot point--somebody several towns over built a giant sculpture of his dog.  Boy that sounds fun, says the little red-headed hellion, we should build a giant sculpture, and Bill can “stupervise.”

Oh gee, y’all, she just said “stupervise” instead of “supervise!” Wow. So cute and endearing. Allie should win ten grand on America’s Funniest Home Videos and not be slapped at all.

I just want to eat her up.

But what to build? Oh, the possibilities. Could be another dog, a monkey, Allie herself, Mr. Quint’s dingaling, a sheep, several cows, a Calvin and Hobbes snowman massacre, an igloo, a dessert-dispensing vending machine, a Wall of Shame, a lifesize copy of that sculpture Tom Green made of his parents doing it, the frontline of the 1976 Philadelphia Flyers, the Burning Man, the Wicker Man, Ugly Lucille Ball Statue, Pretty Lucille Ball Statue, some owls, that weird dollar-bill floating eye thingy, Stonehenge, Charles Barkley, or the Tower of fucking Babel.

Lots of options. And what do they pick? Oh, but of course—giant sculpture of Bill’s left thumb. The uninjured one. Yay!

I now have many, many questions, all of which correlate with the great mystery of Curious George, which is “why the hippity-dippity fuck do any of these people do anything?”

And, and…and THEN, they all go to Bill’s house to look at pictures of his thumb. Bunch of vacuous shit is what it is; Bill is all “here’s my thumb telling my mom I liked her pisghetti” and “here’s my thumb while I was eating watermelon” and so George breaks out the Play-doh to build a replica thumb and Bill absolutely crushes his spirit.

“You call that a ginormous sculpture? That’s all you got?” Bill says, and I imagine burying him in the yard like that guy in The Serpent and the Rainbow. But then I make a mistake; I start to believe that building a giant thumb is stupid, and this episode cannot get any stupider.

Hope is poison. Take care not to get addicted to it.

Maybe Allie was just jealous of the fact that I had spent about ten seconds thinking about killing Bill instead of her, so she pipes up and says they should make the sculpture out of peanut butter. They have plenty of peanut butter—Allie leads them to a shed that is stacked to the ceiling with fifty-pound containers of peanut butter. She laughs and says her grandparents make their own.

Wat. Seriously…I’m watting as hard as I can. I am from an area of this country that literally supplies the entire world with peanut butter, and never in my life have I seen a personal shed filled with the stuff. TONS of peanut butter, on a farm that grows no peanuts, up in Yankeeland. Why do they need that much peanut butter? To whom would they sell it? Who buys peanut butter by the five-gallon bucketful? It is creepy.

Even creepier is when they pop open a drum and dig their grubby little hands into it. They decide--shocker of shockers--that peanut butter is too sticky, so they let the pigs lick it off their hands. Nobody loses a hand.

I know pigs too, y’all. I knew a guy when I was a kid that had a heart attack and fell into his pig-pen and they ate everything but his watch. Pigs will step on you until you die and then eat you. My neighbor kept pigs--the best advice he ever gave me as a youngster was “Git away from them gotdam pigs!” The pigs in Curious George are the size of four-wheelers. This is stupid.

They stay in the pig-pen anyway and try to make a giant thumb out of shaving cream because life is like a box of Dadaist chocolates--you never know what urinal aluminum nutsack kaboom.

It finally occurs to these Mensa candidates that mud might be the best medium for their thumb sculpture. This is discovered after Allie Whoops has an extended conversation with a giant pig about whether or not he wants her to make him a mud pie. I know it is supposed to be cute, in the same way I know Full House was supposed to be funny, but in both cases I either want to kill the writers or myself but would probably get the order wrong.

Because it’s not mud they’re playing in. They are in a pig-pen. It is pig shit. Tons of it. Did I say I know pigs? Because I do. They are indescribably filthy and they shit everywhere. Pigs make the entire state of North Carolina smell like that bathroom at the Carabelle public beach.

From this point on I can’t do anything but feel nauseous. They roll in it; they fill buckets with it. They use it to cover a tomato cage wrapped in chicken wire. Allie Whoops says “whoops” like fifty times, and Bill washes them off with a garden hose. Not only does nobody complain about the smell, but when Mr. and Mrs. Rankin discover what they have been doing with the pigshit, they are so very proud, whereas my mother would have rightfully beaten me bloody for doing such a stupid thing.

Neither pinworms nor tetanus exist in the Curious George universe. When a busload of tourists pulls up to take pictures of the thumb, they all sit in the pig-pen and eat the peanut butter sandwiches Allie Whoops prepares for them.

That’s how I know.

#curiousgeorge #madnessofcuriousgeorge #mocg #alliewhoops #bill

[roadswim-collective]

Birds Hell (Reprise): The Book of Job

Extracted from Transcript C

Right, let's have a go of this one.

(Inhales from e-cigarette, coughs)  

God help, that is harsh.

(Coughs, spits, laughs)

What the hell was that again? Lychee and Raspberry, for god's sake.

(Blows nose, clears throat)

Think I'll go back to the bloody Zestappeal. Anyway, where was I? Christ knows. Oh yeah, so car parks, right? Twice in my life I've been sat on the ground at the edge of a hospital car park, totally brainshot and unable to move. Once was when my brother died, back in 1987, in the old East Glam Hospital, and I was fifteen. Twice was a little while ago at the new Royal Glam Hospital when those birds scared me and all the cars were dead. And what these two car parks taught me was this, right?

When everything's gone wrong and fuck all makes sense, if your brain is smart and knows what's good for it, what it'll do is try to ignore everything. It'll try to get you back to your distractions ASAP, whatever they are. It'll say, hey so life's got no inherent meaning but you invest it with your own meaning and basically just seize the day, have fun and be kind. (Laughs)  Oh, and it'll also do that if it's a particularly thick brain. (Coughs) Yeah...and...then it'll get all obsessive over some hobby or other. According to the tastes it was brought up to enjoy, you know.  Like golf, or fucking, or politics. Maybe faith, religious faith, that's an old favourite, right? (Sniggers)

But my brain, for some reason, this is what I learned in those car parks, doesn't do that. Distractions don't work, they don't distract. Stupid thin things they all seem, stale, flat, and useless. And everything is just a distraction really, every possible thing, love and pleasure, all just a distraction from this truth I'm drowning in right now. My brain, in those car parks, just goes numb and I start to see things in the landscape beyond the perimeter fence and I just don't know where or what I am. 

Actually, I remember this Jehovah's Witness who came round the house one day, a few years ago now, and she was on the doorstep, you know, and I can rarely resist shooting the shit with them when they knock.  I think they see me as a challenge.  I usually talk about the Book of Job. Because that doesn't exactly show the non-existent bastard in the best light, does it?  

I mean...(Laughs) it's all about God gambling with the Devil over the soul of the best man on earth, right?  They have a bet and the stakes are this poor fella's eternal soul.  Which is fucked up for a start, right?  Because if He's God, and God is Love, then why did the bugger take the bet?  Not very loving, that, is it?  Kind of suggests the whole thing is just a game to Him, right?

Anyway, the Devil says, look here now, Jehovah, show me the best and most righteous man on that beloved planet of yours, and I bet I can get to him so bad that he ends up cursing you, his Lord God.  

And what does our loving shepherd tell the Devil?  Does He tell him, mate, fuck off, you're being a dick...(Coughs) and anyway, I've got a duty of care here, so no way, no bet, no deal. Back to the infernal realm with you, old son.

No, he says game on.  

Knowing full well the kind of shit He's letting Job in for, right, all the delicious death and disease and disaster the Devil has in store.  

Game on.

And this is just to win a bet, mind.

(Yawns)

The funniest bit is the ending though.  When God's righteous man, reduced by now to a toothless, hairless, multi-bereaved tramp with these pulsating buboes all over his body, sitting in the ditch where his home used to be, when poor old Job finally dares to raise the slightest, most timid, respectful little question to some sympathetic friends as to what the point is of all this devastation, down comes God Himself.  There He is, right next to them, in the form of  a whirlwind.  He's come to talk to the bloke who's wondering why his life has so spectacularly fallen apart. And what does He do?  

(Laughs)

What He does is He gives Job the most almighty bollocking for even thinking such a thing. And I mean like a really enormous bollocking. A god-sized bollocking. Makes it clear to Job in no uncertain terms that he doesn't even get to ask that question. That what's it all about, eh? that everyone asks at some point in their lives, usually when the shit's hit the fan.  Don't even dare to wonder what it's all about, says God, only I know that, you're so tiny and bloody mortal, I can crush mountains, so I guess you'd better just STFU.

It's true, check it out yourself, Book of Job, in between Esther and Psalms.

And to back it up, He goes on and on, for two whole pages right, about what a massive big God He is, how incredibly powerful and mighty, how He made everything, and how He holds up the sky and moves the stars and fills every fathom of every ocean (Bellows) so how could you possibly expect to know what my plan is, puny mortal!

And He's a real sort of alpha male arsehole about it too, at one point boasting about His big dangerous monster pets, Leviathan and Behemoth, and talking about how He hooks them through the lips and drags them around on chains. Now that sounds all too bloody familiar, dunnit? Like, 24-year-old Lee from Clydach swaggering around with his pitbulls, Tyson and Facefucker. The god version of that syndrome, right?

And all the time this Jehovah thug is all up in poor old Job's pustulent, ruined, human face, giving it all the sarcastic questions routine, I wonder if you could drag sea monsters around on chains? I wonder if you could hold up a mountain, eh? EH?

So that's essentially God's answer to Job, his answer to the question of why a loving God allows suffering in the world.  And the answer is because shut the fuck up, that's why.  

Hallelujah!

(Coughs, inhales more nicotine vapour)

And I mean, yeah, God does magic back Job's stuff in the end, his house and all his sheep and that, and he does clear up his boils for him and gives him new kids to replace the dead ones, after the Devil gives up the bet, but still...think of the psychic trauma, the PTSD for poor bloody Job. Because there's no mention of God giving him a merciful mind wipe, like Men in Black, so he can forget the whole twisted fucking nightmare.  No, the poor sod has to spend the rest of his life all freaked out, walking on eggshells, never able to relax into it all, even at his kitchen table with his new daughters around him, because he's always totally and horrifically aware that any time it can all be shat on and pissed over, for no reason at all.

Anyway, so I'd spin this out for them on the doorstep, the Jehovah's Nusiances, and they'd smile pityingly at how a lost soul can read the True Word of God and still go astray.  

(Laughs)

Or maybe they thought I was the devil, trying to send them astray.  

I've got one about the Tower of Babel too...but...maybe another time...(Indistinguishable) All working together...(Inaudible)...must be the only time in the whole of human history, international co-operation (Indecipherable)...too many ruined buildings in this story without that one on top (Laughs, slurps).

Sorry, just eating...daring to eat...a peach.

(Slurps) Or a reasonable facsimile thereof.

No, but the point I was trying to make was this, right? This Jehovah's Witness, she said to me that what will happen is this.  When the Day comes, there'll be a final battle between Jehovah and Satan.  After a load of terrible armageddon and apocalypse stuff, God will win and  everyone who is still alive on the planet will be sorted by the Angels into two groups, the Saved and the Damned.  The Damned go straight to Hell, of course, to be punished and tortured for all eternity.  And the Saved? They get to stay on the Earth and live forever, at their physical peak, on a planet transformed so it's like the Garden of Eden again.

The way this woman described it...She said that if you were one of the Saved, you could live forever and, you know, inherit the earth.  Do all the things you always wanted to do.  Like me, she said, I love to knit and what I'd really love to do is start off with fleece straight from the sheep, and then go all the way through preparing it and washing it and dyeing it and carding it and finally knitting clothes with it. To me, that would be heaven.  To you, something different, but whatever it is there would be time for.  Words to that effect. Nice little lady in her 70s, very slight, delicate features, pale skin, quite ordinary looking, and yet that little bone china head of hers was the container of such a tiny, cosy eternity, she and her saved friends and a neverending supply of sheep.  

(Coughs)  

It seems so obviously bloody silly but, you know, it kept this little old lady trudging up the steep steps of every house on our side of the street in the pissing grey drizzle.  An insane act, surely?  But it's working for her you know?  It goes to show how far you can go if you really invest in some crock of shit or other.  Don't forget, it's all about distraction.  Your brain knows the truth, deep down.  It knows there's no reason for any of this, no reason and no purpose. It knows there's no God, there's no Devil and there's fuck all when you die. Even that little Jehovah lady, even her brain knew it deep down. But, unlike me, she'd invested in some crock of shit or other, and that kept her happily distracted. As far as she was concerned, she wasn't just spouting nonsense at indifferent strangers in a cold wet cul de sac in a slowly dying post-industrial zone among the impoverished uplands of northern Europe.  No, she was on a very special mission (Giggles)...from God...it's quite sweet really.

(Giggles, coughs).

And despite my best efforts as devil's advocate, she stuck with it.  Although she never did call back, which isn't like them, is it?  Once they've got their hooks in, they keep coming back, don't they?  Not this one, though.  

I wonder why she didn't call back.    

(Laughs, coughs)

#effluent lagoon #roadswim collective #birds hell reprise #book of job #justifying the ways of god to man #problem of evil #satan #God #car parks